


Not Your Doll - Underfell Edition.

by LadyAnatares



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alphyne, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Attempted Kidnapping, Awkward Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Complex Emotions, Discrimination, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff and Angst, Frisk has a gender, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Your Doll AU, Objectification, Past Relationship(s), Racism, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Romantic Comedy, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Sweetheart Sans, Tsundere Sans, Underage Drinking, Undyne is your bestie, and the main badster, but some damselling, edgy vertebae, gast is smooth af, gasters a basterd, give reader a chance, no damsels here, papyton, reader's not drugged though, sans has grabby hands, shit gets real, the slowest fucking burn of all time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 81
Words: 136,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7651441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAnatares/pseuds/LadyAnatares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh golly gee, are you ready for this? This is <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6087736/chapters/13953901">Not Your Doll</a> - Underfell AU edition! Here I will be taking my story chapter by chapter and inserting in everyone's favourite edgy monster cast into it.</p><p>One cold winter day, you accidently run face first into the cement ribs of a dangerous skeleton monster. And feeling both annoyed and brave, you accidently threaten to dust him. Feeling marked, you then you run into him again. And again. And, honestly, you're not quite sure why he hasn't just killed you yet. Is he toying with you?</p><p>This will also serve as a request fic! At the bottom of some chapters I will take a poll for some decision to be made about the story's progression. Sometimes it will be hidden, though, for something that has NOT happened in the canon core timeline :) Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Encounter.

There are a few rules about walking through the bad part of a crowded city. First rule: Don’t look at your feet. Stare straight ahead, and keep your eyes open. Second rule: Keep an angry, threatening look on your face. It helps to think about something that actually makes you angry, of course, but you try to keep it to things you can’t change, like income tax, anti-vaxxers, or the ice cold wind hitting you in the face that’s typical for a Canadian winter. Third and finally, don’t stop to talk to anyone. Don’t even look at bums begging for change or people asking for directions or the time. Minimal interaction is key.

Of course, it would be easier to keep up the tough girl façade if you hadn’t just crashed into someone big when you turned the corner too sharply. They felt like they were made out of concrete, and your whole body aches from the collision. Nevertheless, your whole urban survivalist demeanor dissolves away as you rush to apologize for your clumsiness.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” you ask, brushing off your pants and holding out a hand- Wait. Wait a second. You wither apprehensively as you regard your unintended victim.

The person you crashed into wasn’t human. It was a skeleton. A very tall, very thickly-set, and very _angry_ , skeleton. He had on black house slippers (In this snow?), black shorts with yellow stripes (Again, _in this weather?_ ), and an open black jacket with a brown fur-lined hood and zippered pockets everywhere.

Oh great. You just slighted one of those crazy aggressive monsters that surfaced somewhere in Texas about a year ago. And just when your day had been going comfortably mild.

“ **who the _fuck_ ,**” he spits angrily, his voice harsh and grating. One of his pitch dark sockets glares up at you with a glowing red ring for an eye. “ **you have eyes, don’t ya? try watching where you’re fucking going!** ”

“Hey, there’s no reason for that, I _said_ I was sorry,” you huff and fold your arms protectively over your chest, hoping your teeth aren’t chattering too much from the cold and using your hands to pull your coat tighter around yourself.

“ **fucking _humans_ ,**” he spits as he climbs back to his feet. At his full height he towers over you, at about seven feet tall you guess? “ **i can’t believe we got out of underground just to find the surface _infested_ with you and your soft, _weak_ , species. you’re nothing but a bunch of fuckin’ _parasites_.** ”

“Ex _cuse_ me?” you gape, feeling angry and defensive. “Mind trying that again, monster?”

He leans in closer, sharp pointed teeth gritted inches from your face, and what’s still left unfrozen in your nose can smell mustard on his breath. “ **you’re. a bunch. of _fucking_. parasites,** ” he says sharply. “ **do i need to spell it out for that idiot human brain of yours!? if i had _my_ way, there’d be another war, but the fuckin’ monarchy won’t ‘abide’ it or some shit,**” he hisses.

You definitely get the impression that he wants to intimidate you, what with his towering stance and sharp teeth gnashing at you right in front of your eyes. But you’re not one to be easily intimidated. Determined, you straighten your stance and glare right back at him.

“If you don’t like it up here, then why don’t you go back Underground where you _fucking_ came from,” you fire back.

The skeleton’s sockets widen in a surprised expression. “ **excuse me, sweetheart? _what_ did you just fuckin’ say to me!?** ”

“Why. Don’t _you_. Go back. Where you. _Came_ from,” you repeat for him tersely. At least your boiling anger is keeping your body warm and your lips from freezing in the January cold. “Do I need to spell it out for that _nonexistent_ brain of yours, skeleton?” you smirk, reaching up and tapping him on the skull. You’re rewarded with a hollow noise as he balks at your courage.

His sockets seem to blink at that, before he starts laughing uproariously at your confident display. “ **fuck, it’s not every day i meet a gross fleshbag who can dish it better than they can take it. so, how about you get the fuck out of my way now, before _somebody_ gets hurt,** ” he looms menacingly, red eye seemingly redder as his ivory mouth contorts in a malicious smirk. One of his shark teeth on the far side of his mouth seems to be made out of gold.

“Probably a good idea,” you grin, feeling fire in your veins. “After all,” you begin, leaning in towards the monster. “It’d be a real _bitch_ to have to wash your dust out of my clothes.”

Satisfied with your empty threat and before he has the chance to respond, you turn on your heel and scoop up your schoolbag, slinging both straps over one shoulder as you stride off. You hear more laughter behind you and hope that the skeleton mistakes your nervous jitters walking away for you shivering in the cold.

* * *

 

That was stupid. That was really, _really_ stupid.

Holy _shit_ , you can’t believe you just made enemies with a terrifying-as-fuck skeleton _monster_.

Stewing in your anxiety, you’re seated on the old paisley couch in your aunt’s living room, huddled under a fleece blanket with a hot chocolate clutched desperately in both hands as you try to get your body to dial it back with the cold post-adrenaline sweats. Every so often you can’t help but nervously glance over at the front window, as if you might find him looking for you. Your backpack with your groceries sits by the door, and while the pressing need to get the mini pizzas into the freezer before they thaw is on your mind, you just can’t bring yourself to move away from your comfortable sanctuary.

It makes you feel sick to your stomach to know he might be out there looking for you. Looking for a fight, and looking to see if you’ll actually make good on your empty threat.

Time passes, and you’re not sure how much. Eventually you’re forced to acknowledge the hunger pains in your belly though. Setting down the cold hot chocolate on the coffee table, you slowly stand, bringing the blanket with you wrapped around your shoulders. You’re not quite ready to let go of the false sense of security it gives you.

Trying to put on a brave face for no one besides yourself, you slowly make your way across the room to your backpack. The mini pizzas are half thawed. How long were you sitting there in a fog? Trying to shake off your fear, you grab the whole bag and head for the kitchen. The slightly soggy box still holds onto the ink of the sharpie when you write “_____’s pizzas” on it, thank god for small miracles.

Throwing two on a pan and placing it in the slowly warming oven, you head back over to the couch with your textbook while you wait. Studying should hopefully help take your mind off of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy are you ready for this? >:)


	2. The Flowers.

“Can you fill a few more buckets for me? We’re running out and we’ve got to get these in water,” your boss asks you, distractedly working out orders for the upcoming holiday rush.

“Sure thing Sue,” you respond, dragging a cart over to the sink and putting some empty pails on it as quick as you can. Filling them quickly with the hose and squirting the chemical food in each of them once, you wheel them back over to the counter where the florist is working on a bunch of bouquets, large and small, to display in the front fridge for walk-ins.

You gather a good armload of bouquets, hesitating a moment to drink in the wonderful mix of scents, before walking them over to the cutter and chopping off all the ends to the same length, then dropping them unceremoniously into an open bucket of water.

“How much are these ones?” you ask Clara, the florist. You grab a handful of plastic picks to put the price tags on.

Clara waits nearly a full minute before responding. “Twenty-five for those ones, ______” she finally says. “Fifteen for this next batch.”

“Awesome, thanks,” you say smiling. Even though you’re a seasonal employee, the fifty percent discount still applies to you, and twelve-fifty for these huge gorgeous bundles isn’t a bad deal, you think. It’ll be nice to have something so fresh smelling and bright in the house for once. After tagging each bouquet with the prices proudly displayed on plastic picks, you carry the bucket to the front of the flower store.

It takes you a moment to rearrange the front cooler to allow for the new pail of bouquets to sit comfortably in the back row. Fluffing them out a bit, you steal another sniff before straightening and leaving the cooler.

As you move to open the door, you nearly crash into an eerily familiar black jacket with zippers.

Oh, _fuck_. It’s that skeleton again! _SHIT._

Maybe he doesn’t remember you. Maybe you’ll get lucky.

“ **holy shit, it’s _you_.** **you work here?** ” his grating voice demands, a smirk pulling at his bony cheek revealing that gleaming golden tooth.

He remembers you. _FUCK_.

“Only seasonally,” you reply, sounding meeker than you’d like to.

“ **heh. then, why don’t you make yourself useful and tell which one of these bundles of weeds will get me laid,** ” he grins sharply.

He’s not going to start a fight? Well, okay then? In a daze, you turn and grab one of the bundles you were just looking at and offer it to him. “How’s this one?” you ask, hoping he’s satisfied with the quick service. And that he’ll get out of this tiny cramped fridge and leave you to your work.

His sockets narrow at you as he gingerly accepts the bouquet from your outstretched hands. Very slowly, he brings it up to his nasal hole, and makes a much exaggerated show of sniffing it to see if it’s good. Then he pauses and stares at you intensely for what feels like a small eternity. “ **yeah, this’ll do,** ” he finally says.

He knows he has you on edge and he’s trying to prolong your misery. GREAT.

“Awesome. Now if you’ll get out of my way I can go ring you up and then you can get the hell out of my store,” you offer boldly, bristling under his piercing gaze.

He stares at you for another prolonged minute or so. “ **what’s _your_ fuckin’ hurry?** ” he asks, giving you that shark-toothed grin again.

“I’m working, and have better things to be doing than standing in a fridge with a monster?” You _really_ shouldn’t be antagonizing him like this, but you can’t help but lash out when you feel cornered.

The asshole leans against the frame of the door then, using his large body to completely block the way. “ **nah. this fridge is nice. think i might take a nap right here,** ” he chuckles darkly.

Oh my _god_. “Get out of the way,” you demand, boiling in anger.

“ **what are _you_ going to do about it? _shove_ me?** ” he laughs, closing his sockets with weird ivory eyelids.

Already past done with the skeleton’s shenanigans, you quickly determine that that’s fucking _exactly_ what you’re about to do.

His eye sockets open to narrow at you, as you close the distance. It happens so fast. He seems to startle as you push against his ribs into the push bar of the fridge door behind him, and he grabs onto the first thing that he can think of. He falls out onto the floor, hitting the terracotta tile ass first with a loud _bang_. From up close he looks absolutely mortified.

Up close, because what he’d grabbed in that commotion was _you_. His huge, sweaty hand still has your forearm clenched from where he pulled you to take the fall with him.

He smells like mustard and sweat. _Ew_.

“ **heh, what do you know?** ” he cackles. “ **i’m already covered in _bitch_. the flowers work.** ”

Face hot, now it’s your turn to be absolutely mortified. As soon as he lets you go, you clamber off of him and stand up, straightening your shirt out and dusting yourself off as you march over to the register.

“Fifty-six fifty,” you announce, keeping your voice as monotone as possible, after you punch it in.

“ ** _what?!_** ” his expression is incredulous as he rises to his feet. “ **that’s a fuckin’ rip off,** ” he sneers, expression suddenly angry.

“That’s the price. I don’t make the rules,” you insist boldly, slightly hoping he doesn’t notice how many of the flowers were damaged when you fell on top of him. At least it’s mostly the yellow poms that bore the brunt of your earlier attack. Fortunately the large stargazer lily, roses, and carnations all look fine.

“ **… fine. _whatever_ ,**” he agrees. Really? That easy? This guy’s all over the place.

Stalking over to you at the front counter, he digs into his shorts for a moment or two until he finally withdraws some wadded up bills. Knowing you can’t accept the fifties, you separate them out and grab three twenty dollar notes instead. Going to hand him his change, you notice him looking off to the left. “ **oh shit, you guys have cards?** ”

“The small ones are free,” you shrug, happy his eye isn’t glowering down at you for once. “Why, you want one?”

“ **oh** **hell yeah,** ” he grins toothily as he slinks over to the counter, quickly snatching one of the cards and a pen.

“Do you want this thing wrapped?” you ask his back.

He ignores you as he writes his message. Sighing softly to yourself, you decide to wrap it anyways. Finally he turns to you, holding out a card, and you snatch it from him, probably a little more aggressively than you’d like. Man, he _really_ gets your back up. It’s not enough that he’s tall and big and mean, but he fucking knows how much he bothers you, and insists on getting into your personal bubble.

Removing the price from the pick in the center of the bouquet, you place the card on the pick instead. You can’t help but read it.

“sup tori. wanna fuck? -sans.” You roll your eyes at that. But keep your gaze cast downwards so he doesn’t see.

Finishing your wrapping and taping the top closed, you offer it to him in a hand, your other outstretched with his change. He chuckles at your bravery, accepting the bouquet from you, then placing his hand over yours with his owed three dollars fifty cents. His hand is hot and hard, and you raise an eyebrow at the gesture nervously.

“ **keep the change, sweetheart,** ” he says. “ **for your… _services_ ,**” he emphasizes wolfishly.

“Eugh,” you cringe, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms in front of yourself defensively. “You have your flowers now, so get out of my store please.”

He closes his sockets with those weird eyelids again as he shrugs, then struts his way out of the store. Once the door closes behind him, you let out a massive sigh of relief. Then shriek as you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Clara asks, sounding soft and concerned. Huh, that’s new for her. Where was she a minute ago?! Your question is answered when you catch a whiff of her cigarette aura. “I thought I’d have to scrape you up off the floor when that monster got in the cooler with you.”

“Me too, honestly,” you breathe. “But… I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.”

“Be careful around monsters, okay _____?” Clara advises. “I don’t think I need to tell you how dangerous they are. After all, their King…”

“I’ll be careful,” you smile. “Believe it or not, that’s the second time I ran into that guy.”

“Shit, really!?”

“Yeah. First time I knocked him down by accident. This time I knocked him down _on purpose_ , then sold him a bouquet of broken flowers for fifty-six bucks.”

Clara blinks at you. Her expression is indescribable. After a long, tense moment, she laughs and claps her hand against your shoulder, hard. “You sold the monster busted flowers? … Oh my _god_ , _____, you’re my new hero.”

You blush softly at that, just thankful to still be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! It's poll time! I need some direction from you lovely readers for the next chapter.
> 
> Where does Reader next meet Sans?  
> A: At his work.  
> B: At the grocery store.
> 
> Let me know in the comments!


	3. The Mustard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DING DING DING GROCERY STORE IT IS!

“ **fuck, if it isn’t _you_ again.** ”

You sigh. It had been over a week since the flower store incident. Yet, here he was for a third time, standing in the condiment aisle putting mustard in the cart. A _lot_ of mustard. Eyeballing it you guess maybe over a dozen bottles. Does he drink the stuff!?

“I guess we live in the same neighbourhood?” you shrug.

“ **ugh. just my luck,** ” he groans, leaning against the cart. Maybe he feels the same way you do about running into him; Haunted.

“I just need _one_ bottle of the yellow stuff if you don’t mind,” you say, approaching him cautiously. “Paul promised he’d make burgers tonight.”

“ **your boyfriend?** ” he asks you suddenly.

“Ew, _no_ ,” you recoil. “My _cousin_.”

His red eye scans your expression for a hot second, then he chuckles. “ **i see.** ”

Juggling your grocery basket to your offhand, you try to reach past him and his cart towards the mustard, but he grabs your wrist and holds you in place. Staring you down for a moment as you panic and try to wriggle free from his impossible grip, he lets out an amused noise when he lets you go and you finally wrench away.

“ **too close, human,** ” he sneers. Then he grabs a bottle of mustard off the shelf next to him and offers it to you.

“Uh, thanks,” you mumble as you look at the bottle in his bony outstretched hand. “But, actually, I wanted the small one, up on the top shelf."

“ **why wouldn’t you want more?** ” he asks, bewildered.

“We don’t use it fast enough in our house,” you shrug.

He makes an exaggerated eye roll, bobbing his entire head and sagging his massive shoulders with the motion, before he puts the large bottle of mustard back and grabs the small one for you. With his height he can reach it easily, and you feel a tiny pang of jealousy at that.

“Thanks,” you smile gently.

His sockets blink at you in a confused expression.

“ **SANS.** ”

You turn and it’s just your luck, isn’t it, that there’d be another enormous menacing skeleton monster standing right there. His voice is harsh and rasping. And _loud_.

“ **’sup boss,** ” the skeleton you keep running into - You guess his name is probably Sans, then - greets the newcomer nervously.

“ **WHY ARE YOU INTERACTING WITH A _HUMAN_?** ” the taller skeleton – Maybe about eight feet in height, you grimace – interrogates him, tone laced with disgust. His black outfit is very pointy, and his long red gloves and tall red boots are the same. His midsection which is just spine is exposed, making it clearly obvious that he is, in fact, just bones. He’s holding… Eight boxes of spaghetti? Sans seems to cringe under his gaze. “ **YOU KNOW THAT IS _FORBIDDEN_ ,**” he scolds.

“ **she was getting in my way over some fuckin’ mustard,** ” he answers. Is he sweating? There are wet, faintly red droplets forming on his bone white skull.

“And I’ve got my condiment,” you add, holding up the small bottle of mustard for show. “So, I’m going to go.”

Both skeletons turn to you in shock and you freeze before you can drop it into your basket. What did you do wrong _this_ time!?

“ **YOU DARE ADDRESS _ME_ , THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, CAPTAIN OF THE _ROYAL GUARD?!_** ”

Oh shit. He has a title and everything. Did you just piss off monster nobility?

“Sorry, Papyrus the Terrible. If it’s okay with you, uh, I’m going to walk away now and never bother either of you again,” you surrender meekly. Really, it’s taking everything you have to not just take off running.

He lets out a derisive noise at that as you turn away. Suddenly you feel a very large hand on your shoulder. Cringing, you turn your head slightly to see it’s a red gloved hand. Papyrus.

“ **SINCE YOU ARE _INSISTENT_ ON DISTURBING MY SUBORDINATE OVER CONDIMENTS, PERHAPS YOU WOULD BE INTERESTED IN SOLVING A PUZZLE FOR ME,** ” he rasps darkly.

A puzzle? Oh, _fuck_. Monsters were _famous_ for their tendency towards death traps. They were all like real-life versions of Jigsaw from the Saw movie series.

Morbidly curious how badly this is about to go, you very slowly turn in place to face him again. His hand releases your shoulder and you try to hide your startled shiver when you find a bottle of mustard held an inch from your face.

“ **HUMAN,** ” Papyrus demands. “ **EXPLAIN TO ME WHY ALL OF THESE BOTTLES HAVE SANS’ NAME ON THEM. _NOW_.** ”

Still being very slow and careful so as not to surprise the guard captain, you gently take the bottle from his hand and read it.

It says “Sans Gluten”.

You can’t help it, you try your best to stifle a laugh, but accidently snort in amusement anyway. Both skeletons are glaring down at you, wondering what the hell your problem is.

“Uh,” you begin. “It’s French. It’s just telling you that the mustard is gluten-free.”

“ **… FRENCH?** ”

“Yeah. See how is says Gluten Free right before it? Sans Gluten means ‘Without Gluten’ in French,” you explain. “Lots of stuff in Canada has to have everything translated in both official languages. See on the back here? The ingredients are listed twice, first in English, then again in French,” you add, offering the bottle back to Papyrus.

Both skeletons raise their sockets in surprise and their jaws part slightly, as their understanding of the world has suddenly expanded.

“ **i was wondering why so much shit had my name on it,** ” Sans chuckles.

“ **WHAT IS GLUTEN, AND WHY WOULD IT BE IMPORTANT THAT THIS MUSTARD DOESN’T CONTAIN IT?** ”

Not wanting to further antagonize the taller, more intimidating new skeleton, you delicately explain how gluten comes from wheat, oats, and other grain sources, and that some humans can get very ill if they eat something that contains it.

“It actually became kind of a fad a couple years ago,” you note. “And, things like mustard, which, I don’t think ever actually _had_ gluten in the first place, started saying that they didn’t have gluten as some sort of marketing gimmick.”

“ **INTERESTING,** ” Papyrus muses. “ **SO HUMANS CAN DIE FROM SIMPLE ORGANIC COMPOUNDS FOUND IN THEIR MANUFACTURED FOODS.** ” He sounds way too pleased with that information.

“Uh, I don’t think gluten can kill someone,” you shrug. You briefly wonder if you should tell them about allergies. Then again… Maybe not. “So, can I go now?”

“ **not yet,** ” Sans grins with opportunity. He holds out a hand towards you as if he’s introducing you. “ **hey boss, _this_ is the human girl who said she’d dust me,** ” he casually declares.

Okay, _now_ the monsters are going to kill you. It’s basically certain at this point. You quietly make what little peace you can with the universe.

The towering skeleton regards you silently for a moment. Then, he bursts out laughing. What?

“ **not sure what’s so funny boss,** ” Sans grumbles.

“ ** _THIS_ IS THE HUMAN THAT HAS YOU COWERING IN _FEAR!?_** ” Papyrus asks, bringing a gloved hand to his jaw to restrain himself from more laughter. “ **I ALWAYS _KNEW_ YOU WERE THE WEAKER BROTHER. I‘D WAGER THIS WAIF DOESN’T HAVE A _SINGLE_ EXP.** ” So they’re brothers?

“Yeah, I totally don’t have any of whatever that is,” you add meekly. Then you look at Sans with a raised eyebrow. “Wait, were you _actually_ scared of me?”

“ ** _no,_** ” he hisses, straightening from his lean against the shopping cart.

Curious, you take a step towards him. He stiffens and seems to take a half step back at your approach. Papyrus scowls deeply at Sans hesitation.

“ **I CAN’T _BELIEVE_ YOU ARE ACTUALLY AFRAID OF THIS PATHETIC _HUMAN_ , SANS!**” the taller skeleton scolds. “ **YOU UTTER _NUMBSKULL!_** ”

“ **cut me some slack, boss. she’s already knocked me over twice,** ” Sans whinges.

“ **GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER SANS, OR _I’LL_ BE THE ONE TO KNOCK YOU OVER NEXT!** ”

Then you see it. Papyrus raising a hand and forming a fist, and Sans ducking away from him in anticipation. His skull seems to be instantly dotted with rose coloured sweat.

It fills you with… Recklessness.

Dropping your basket, your body seems to move of its own volition as you dash to get between the skeleton brothers. Putting yourself in the middle of this is probably a _really_ bad idea, but it would hardly be the first one you’ve had regarding monsters lately. You just hope it isn’t your last.

Raising your arms up above your head you close your eyes. You squeak in surprise as you feel a large, gloved hand, stop when it hits your crossed forearms. Opening an eye you look up at the stopped fist, all momentum drained from it as you then look into Papyrus’ surprised expression.

“ **THE… THE HUMAN _TRICKED_ ME!** ” He looks a hundred times more offended than when you spoke to him earlier.

“ **what the hell do you think you’re _doing!?_** ” Sans hisses. He grabs you by the shoulder and you yelp in surprise as he pulls you out of the way.

“Uh… Protecting you from your brother?” you offer, rubbing at your now sore shoulder. Man, that sounds weird coming out of your mouth.

“ **how fucking _stupid_ _are_ you?** ” he growls angrily. “ **stay the _fuck_ away from me! hell, just stay the fuck away from _all monsters_ while you’re at it!** ”

“He was going to _hurt_ you!” you protest, dropping your hand from your shoulder, fuming with righteous indignation. “Brothers shouldn’t hit each other. What are you, five-year olds!? The hell do you think you’re _doing_ trying to smack each other around in the middle of a _supermarket?!_ ”

“ **HE DOESN’T HAVE THE _RIGHT_ TO CALL ME BROTHER!** ” Papyrus exclaims angrily.

“What even _is_ that BULLSHIT!? You’re _family_ , aren’t you? So fucking _ACT LIKE IT!_ ”

Both skeletons seem slightly stunned at your outburst. There are also suddenly a _lot_ more people in the aisle than you realized, watching the spectacle curiously. Your red face could probably burst into flames.

“ **… just get the hell out of here you crazy bitch,** ” Sans mumbles quietly, still angry from your interference in their squabble. He seems aware of the audience that’s gathered as well, and just completely done with the day’s events.

“Don’t fret your bony head, I was already leaving,” you bark back.

Collecting your basket, you confidently stride off towards the cash registers, feeling anxious at the dozens of eyes following your back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why would Sans go alone when Paps basically lives off of spaghetti? :P Surprise early introduction of a character!
> 
> This was tricky to write, but I still love it because it made me think on my feet. Writing prompts are awesome like that.
> 
> Next chapter poll:  
> Should Sans be honest?  
> A: Yes.  
> B: No.
> 
> [Edit] Shortly after posting this, realized I need a second poll for setting. Where do they next meet?  
> A: At Reader's work?  
> B: On the street?
> 
> Thanks you guys, you're lovely and amazing as always <3


	4. The Lunch.

“We’ve _got_ to stop meeting like this.”

You’ve just managed to narrowly avoid crashing into Sans again, at the same corner where you’d first met though going in the opposite directions. His massive shoulders slump as he sighs, red eye scanning you curiously. Then he smirks with those shark teeth of his, showing off his one golden tooth.

“ **well, if it isn’t the crazy bitch always gettin’ in my way,** ” he sneers down at you.

“Not this time,” you shake your head. “I’m just trying to get to work today. See you around, Sans.”

You turn to walk away, but he stops you.

“ **hey, hold up a sec,** ” he says. Turning in place you notice he seems to have a really anxious expression crossing his round skull. “ **look, i need to tell you something. can we go somewhere?** ”

That seems kind of out of character for him, you think. What happened to his big bad monster façade? He seems to have dropped it, and you’re honestly too curious to pass this up. “Uh, sure I guess. Where do you want to go?”

“ **how about the park?** ” he suggests, anxiously sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

You frown at that. “I can’t do the park. I don’t know about _you_ , but it’s February in Canada,” you chuckle. “And I’m not too keen on sitting on icy benches in the freezing cold.”

* * *

 

“We don’t serve _monsters_ here.”

You look behind you in the crowded food court line at the massive skeleton practically seething at the comparatively smaller guy behind the counter. Sighing, you pick up your tray from the register where you were about to pay for your slice and decide to get involved.

“ **listen here you little human sh-** “

“Hey Ricardo, what’s up?” you interrupt cheerily, putting yourself between the skeleton and the sneeze guard.

“Oh… H-hey _____,” the suddenly meek service person withers under your gaze.

“I was just about to cash out, but I realized that I’m actually _super_ hungry today,” you say, play acting a resigned sigh and pout. “So, in addition to this, I’m _also_ going to need two slices of the cheeseburger pizza,” you add, nodding towards Sans’ lunch selection he’d attempted to order just a moment ago. Sans’ sockets study you silently, trying to figure out what game you’re trying to play.

Ricardo’s eyes narrow at you, glancing back and forth between you and the skeleton. “Really,” he says dryly.

“ _Really_ ,” you insist with a big smile, determined to have your way. “Hey, do you have any mustard packets too?”

Suddenly paying for three slices of pizza and two fountain drinks instead of one each, the bill’s a lot higher than you anticipated, so you have to put away your cash and pay for lunch on debit instead. You grab a bunch of napkins and mustard packets for the now overloaded tray, briefly wondering whether you could grab a second one or if Ricardo would bitch at you for it. You decide to just juggle the one over to the nearest table, Sans following closely behind apparently oblivious to your struggle. It’s hard not to notice all the heads turning to you and Sans as he seats himself across from you, but you try to put it at the back of your mind for now.

Sans pulls the two paper plates of cheeseburger pizza towards himself, collecting a large handful of mustard packets from the plastic tray as well. Before he digs in though, he tilts to one side as he messes with a pocket on his shorts. Finally, he withdraws a wad of greasy bills, then plucks a ten out of the mess and throws it at you before the wad disappears back into his black shorts.

You pick up the bill experimentally. “What’s this for?”

“ **lunch,** ” he grumbles, opening the packets and squeezing them out over his pizza. You scrunch your nose at the sight. “ **i hate it when people buy shit for me.** ”

“Me too, actually. But Ricardo was being an ass, so don’t sweat it,” you dismiss.

“ **you know pizza guy?** ”

“Ergh, _yeah_ ,” you groan. “We dated in highschool for like a week before he started getting creepy and weird. I regret every minute of it.”

Sans blinks at that, then he snorts a short laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Ricardo mumbling something to his coworker, a young girl at the register who has her hands up concealing her laughing face, before he throws a towel over something and heading to the back. You roll your eyes at that.

“New topic,” you grimace, turning back to face Sans. “How did the flowers work with ‘Tori’ anyway?” you ask giddily, just dying to know.

“ **it was a fucking _shitshow_ ,**” he growls lowly, gripping his drink in one massive hand. “ **i mean, come _on_! you and your husband weren’t exactly on the best of terms even before he got thrown in the clink, but you’re still going to wait twenty-five years to _life_ for him to get out before you get _laid_ again!?** ” he hisses dangerously, gently crushing the innocent cup as he continues absently ranting. “ **for a monster with fire magic, she’s the most frigid bitch i know. i thought we had something good going! but _no_ , apparently, i’m not good enough to fuck for the interim? and _then_ she threw the flowers back in my face while asking me to _babysit_ in practically the same breath.** ”

Geez, _somebody’s_ pent up. “So, what now? Are you done with her?”

“ **tch. maybe,** ” he shrugs. “ **i’m not going to waste twenty-five years or _more_ waiting for asgore to get out of prison so she can remember how much of an _asshole_ he was.** ”

“Asgore?” you ask. “Isn’t that the king who, uh…”

“ **killed a bunch of human kids and took their souls to break us out? the one and only,** ” he chuckles mirthlessly.

So, Tori’s the queen, Toriel Dreemurr?? “You were serenading the queen? That’s… _Bold_.”

“ **maybe your stupid flowers are what blew it,** ” he sneers. “ **i should get a refund.** ”

“I’ll talk to my boss,” you snicker. “Anyways, didn’t you want to tell me something?” you address the thickly set skeleton in front of you and remind him.

“ **yeah,** ” he straightens. “ **getting between the boss and me was a bad move. don’t you _ever_ do that again,** ” he warns.

You raise an eyebrow at that. “I’m not just going to stand around and let him take a swing at you,” you protest.

“ ** _well,_** ” he drawls. “ **you _should_. he about flipped his _shit_ when you interfered the other day. monsters and humans don’t interact with each other. that’s the rule. so, stay _out_ of it.**”

Sitting back in your chair and folding your arms aggressively, you regard him silently for a moment.

“ ** _what?_** ” he demands of the interrogatory stare down.

“Monsters and humans don’t interact, huh?” you say, nodding towards the pizza crusts on paper plates on the table in front of you. “So, then why _did_ you agree to have lunch with me?”

He bares his shark teeth angrily, closing one of his massive hands into a fist, and then letting it fall a short distance with an abrupt THUNK onto the small food court table. “ **so i could tell you to stay the fuck out of my business, _human_.** ”

A small smile creeps onto your face. “You don’t _actually_ want that,” you assert confidently.

“ **ex _cuse_ me sunshine?** ” he startles slightly, eye sockets widening in surprise. “ **and what the fuck makes you say _that?_** ”

“Because if you just wanted to tell me to get lost, you didn’t have to join me for _lunch_ ,” you state openly, unfolding your arms to gesture towards the lunch tray with both hands. “Hell, you could’ve just told me to back off half an hour ago when we bumped into each other. Instead we've been sitting here chatting like buds.”

His sockets narrow dangerously at you, sliding his hand off the table into his lap. He says nothing though, just makes a noise in his nonexistent throat that sounds like a growl. You frown at the defensive display. This posturing and showboating was getting old fast, now that you could see it for what it really was.

… Maybe he just needs someone to talk to?

“Sans,” you say softly, feeling concerned for the tough skeleton. “Are you okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this story blew up :O It's already way more popular than my Gaster Timeline fic, which is IMO my personal fave right now. I guess people really like Underfell, huh? Well, I hope you continue to like my interpretation of it, because it might be a little different than you're expecting >:)
> 
> Also you guys made it really hard on me for that last poll, but that's totally okay. I just wasn't expecting such a close race between honesty/dishonesty. I decided to go with 'bad at behind dishonest' and it was a real fight to do that justice. Where he's being dishonest is where he's trying to tell reader to back off, FYI. It's way too early for love confessions, and this is Underfell after all - She'd have to pry it from his cold, dusty phalanges.
> 
> POLL FOR NEXT CHAPTER!: Who should show up at the party store?  
> A: Undyne, or  
> B: Alphys?
> 
> *rubs hands together* Let the games begin!


	5. The Tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alphys won by two votes at the time of this writing, so heeere's Alphys!

Well, yesterday could’ve gone a whole lot better.

There was just something about Sans that _tore_ at you, and you couldn’t quite explain it. When he stood up and you grabbed his arm, you could’ve _swore_ you saw smoke coming from that bright red eye, but he just shook you off of him and threw the table you’d been sitting at together with his magic. You shouted at him, and he’d shouted back swears and threats, but he failed to make you back down while he himself looked for a retreat. Then he’d just… Vanished into thin air. There was a lot of commotion and excited gasps at the display all around you, but it just made you feel… Honestly? Really _bad_.

Monsters were supposed to be dangerous and awful, ‘evil’ even, depending on who in the news you listened to. But Sans… Despite everything, he had never actually _hurt_ you.

Sure he made threats, swore a lot, and everything _about_ him was aggressive, from the red and black clothes, to the menacing red eye, down to the large shark-like teeth lining his maw. What must his life have been like in that hellish world of Underground? You growled at the memory of him cowering under the raised hand of his brother Papyrus, and for a brief moment wish you were tough enough to do more to help him. Sans’ responses to things were usually pretty callous, threatening, bordering on violence - but _never_ crossing that line. Was it because he was abused? His tough act was just an act, you were sure of that now, and it filled you with a sense of… Pity.

Sans would probably _hate_ that you, a lowly _human_ , pitied him, but the sentiment was there nonetheless. Oh well. After the legendary scuffle in the food court, you probably wouldn’t ever talk to him again. Even if you kept running into each other, he’d probably just ignore you from now on.

You can’t help people – or monsters – who don’t want to be helped, after all.

It’s an oddly warm night in early February, so the snow coming down is wet and soggy and is probably what’s actively preventing visitors to your primary job, the party store, tonight. Sue was miffed at you that you declined working for her tonight with Valentine’s right around the corner, but you couldn’t drop your scheduled shift at a moment’s notice. Especially since you knew you were the only one available to close tonight.

You’re surprised to hear the front door open, looking up to see a short person come in, their head completely wrapped in a red and black scarf to protect themselves from the icy sleet. Feet still sore from standing on terracotta tiles all last night at the flower store, you’re in a fierce debate with yourself whether you ought to go and greet them, when they pull the scarf down and see their face.

It’s a monster. A short, golden-scaled, lizard monster with glasses.

Isn’t that just your luck.

On the other side of her thick lenses she blinks a couple times, looking all around until her eyes land on you. Staring each other down for a moment, she (At least, you _think_ it’s a she) takes a careful step forward.

“May I peruse your merchandise?” she asks carefully.

“Uhh, sure I guess,” you shrug. “Peruse away.”

“It isn’t a problem?” she asks.

“Why would it be a problem?”

“I’m a monster,” she states flatly.

“Not a problem with me,” you say, shaking your head and smiling gently. “And, if you need help with anything, feel free to let me know, alright?”

She dawdles another moment or two, before letting out a thoughtful “Hmm,” then heads purposefully into the wedding section.

Sighing, you begrudgingly decide to stand and move over to the front desk where the cash register sits. It has a better view down the wedding aisles, so you can pretend to be checking inventory while keeping an eye on your new and only customer.

After she browses for what feels like half an hour in the starkly silent store, but is probably only about five minutes, she approaches the counter where you’re standing. “Find what you’re looking for?” you ask politely and giving your best customer service smile.

“Not exactly,” she sighs. “And, it occurs to me that wedding traditions must be very different on the surface. May I ask… In your experience, how do humans generally celebrate a marriage?”

“Well, there are lots of things people do,” you shrug. “I guess I can give you the basics.”

You tell her about how humans often propose with a ring, and then how there are sometimes parties that lead up to the actual wedding day, such as stag and doe parties to raise money for the couple, as well as bachelor and bachelorette parties as a last hurrah for being single. She asks curiously how those would work with two women getting married, and you make some suggestions on how to change the theming of them. Then the actual wedding ceremony can be done a number of ways, but mostly there’s a minister from a church or a registered wedding officiant, some vows are said, and a marriage license is signed and witnessed. Her questions are all very technical and focused, whenever you start to elaborate on cool or fun things you’ve seen at friends’ weddings or in the movies, she steers you back to explaining something else about the tradition.

“Thank you very much, human,” she smiles prettily as she adjusts her thick glasses. “It seems I was correct in my assertion that human weddings are very different from monster marital traditions.”

“No problem,” you shrug casually. “Anything else I can help with?” With the weather, you don’t really have a whole lot else going on.

“You seem to know a lot about wedding traditions,” she observes. “Are you… Married yourself?”

She startles when you sputter and laugh, face feeling extremely heated. “Oh god, _no!_ I just uh… Well, I _do_ work here, so people are always coming in with their ideas, stories… Plus I’ve been to a wedding or two as a guest, so, second-hand experience?” you guess.

“I see. Well, nonetheless, this has been very informative for me. Thank you,” she reiterates. “Perhaps… Would it be possible to get some contact information for you, in case I have more questions later?”

Grinning, you pick up one of the business cards in the holder next to you and offer it to her. She squints at it like you just offered her a piece of garbage.

“Oh,” you realize. “You meant, _my_ personal contact info.”

“Precisely,” she brightens, and you think you see her tail swish side to side behind her. “I’ve not had the pleasure of interacting with very many humans, though most of the ones that I have… Well, they’ve not been very accommodating,” she scoffs. “But, _you_ have been very friendly and informative and, if I were able to choose who I next converse with on the subject, I would prefer it be you.”

“Oh, well, that’s really nice of you to say,” you beam at her for her awkward compliment. “Sure, I guess there’s no harm in it,” you agree, pulling your cellphone from your pants pocket. “I work a lot so I don’t answer many calls, but I’m up for texting most times of the day. What’s your number? And, uh, your name?”

“I am Dr. Alphys of Hotland, assistant to the Royal Scientist,” she puffs up proudly. She recites her number as well as she digs through her purse for her own phone. “And yours?”

“_____ _____. Of Canada, I suppose?” you chuckle, mimicking her formal introduction. Neat that she’s a scientist though, or at least, assistant to one. “Here, I’ll text you so you can add my contact easier.”

Alphys’ phone bleeps as she receives your text, and she smiles appreciatively at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I was really hoping for you guys to vote for Alphys, so if it wound up tied I was going to pick her anyways :P This binosaur is not shy at all... I wonder what she's up to getting Reader's digits like that? >:)
> 
> Would you like a slightly spoilery bonus chapter?  
> A: Yes, give me a slightly spoilery bonus chapter.  
> B: Naw, I'll wait for the canon reveal.


	6. The BONUS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY HERE HAVE A BONUS CHAPTER. Fiends.  
> ...  
> ...  
> I'm kidding I love you guys <3

“ _OH MY GOD!!!_ ”

Alphys is beside herself when she heads in to the lab the next day. Sans lazily rolls his head to one side from where he’s reclined in his desk chair within the small office, absently wondering what the hell could get the twisted little runt so excited.

“ **what the fuck is _your_ problem today, alph?** ” he grunts at her. “ **did they cancel that shitty show you like finally?** ”

The short lizard squints up at him darkly, scoffing. “ _Many_ animes don’t get a second season, unfortunately, but I’ll have you know that ‘Another’ is _very_ intriguing besides, you uncultured _cretin_.”

“ **i didn’t even say _which_ show,** ” the thickly set skeleton chuckles. “ **so i guess you admit this ‘another’ show is crap then. what kind of name is ‘another’ anyways? did they run out of names? ‘ _another_ ’ shitty anime. sounds perfect.**”

“I have _no time_ for your shenanigans today, Sans-“

“ **oooh, i’ve gone from ‘uncultured cretin’ to ‘shenanigans’ already today. do i win a prize?** ”

“Is the boss in? I need to report on something extremely important,” the lizard demands, adjusting her glasses in Sans’ direction.

“ **put the bird away, alph. he’s not coming in for a while – he had some ‘inspiration’ in the middle of the night last night and hasn’t moved away from his whiteboard since.** ”

“Well, it is _imperative_ that I speak to him _at once_ ,” she says, pulling her arms through the sleeves of her white lab coat.

Sans straightens in his chair, only to hunch forward and lean on the tiny desk. “ **what for? maybe i can get him a message.** ”

“And why should I entrust this information to _you?_ ” she huffs.

“ **’cause i live with the asshole, and can teleport to him in the blink of an eye?** ” he drawls boredly. “ **don’t worry, i’m not interested in taking over your role as _teacher’s pet_.** ”

Her eyes narrow at him again, before letting out a short snorting breath. “ _Fine,_ ” she concedes. “I suppose I’ll tell you. I met a human last night… A female human with a _red soul_.”

“ **… so?** ”

“So? … SO!? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN _‘SO’?!?_ ” Alphys flusters, enraged. “A human with a red soul is a MAGE, SANS! A human _MAGE!_ More importantly, she’s already an _adult_ , and is not tied to the Queen in any way! Do you know what this _means?!_ ”

Sans shrugs his massive shoulders, but waits curiously for his coworker to continue.

“It MEANS she could be useful to the Royal Scientist’s ‘Sustainable Genealogy Initiative’!” Alphys squeals.

“ **… wait, seriously?** ”

“ _YES_ , SANS. _SERIOUSLY_ ,” the short lizard scoffs, placing her fists on her hips. “And this is the best part – I have determined that she is unmarried, and have even ‘befriended’ her and retrieved her contact details!” She fumbles with her phone for a moment, then opens her contacts and turns it to Sans. “See? We have even been ‘texting’!”

“ **well, that’s definitely not a monster name,** ” he chuckles. “ **but are you sure she’s determination? she could be wrath, they look very similar to the naked eye.** ”

“Don’t _patronize_ me,” Alphys scolds, returning her phone to the pocket from whence it came. “I _know_ a red soul when I see one.”

Sans was intrigued, but something was bothering him about Alphys’ discovery. After all, he’d only met _one_ human with a red soul from the surface in the last _year_ , and honestly, she was nothing but trouble. “ **hmm,** ” he hums thoughtfully.

“W-WELL!? Are you going to report this to the boss or not!?”

“ **one question, first; is she sexy?** ”

“How is that even relevant!?” she flusters.

“ **look, alph,** ” he straightens from the desk to lean back in his chair again. “ **so, you _might_ have found a human female with determination as their primary aspect – good for you. however, the whole deal’s off if she’s as ugly as a troll, right? so, before i take this to the boss, i’ve got to know she’s _hot_ first - smoking or otherwise.** ”

“UGH!” she grunts loudly, throwing her hands in the air. “Fine. I suppose by human standards she is attractive. I wouldn’t KNOW, though, as I’ve only eyes for Undyne.”

“ **describe her to me,** ” he grins wolfishly, reaching for the knotted strings on the front of his shorts. “ **give me something to work with here.** ”

“I’m _really_ not interested in indulging your perverted _fantasies_ today.”

“ **describe her, in _detail_ , or else i stay right here, and later when i get home i’ll tell the boss you _wasted_ a whole bunch of my valuable time chasing _trolls_ ,**” Sans warns, red eye gleaming down at her.

Alphys stumbles a bit, flushing at the skeleton’s bold actions and threat, then turns to lean on her own desk nearby, focusing her eyes on the furthest point on the adjacent wall that won’t have Sans in her periphery.

She describes the human’s physical characteristics very technically, and Sans, reveling in her discomfort, starts working at himself and demanding that she say it _slower_ , in a more seductive tone of voice. She cringes as she reluctantly indulges him, but his lusting reverie is cut brief as his suspicions are slowly confirmed by the excited lizard. Adjusting himself before retying his shorts, he snorts derisively at the ruined moment. It was her. It _had_ to be her.

“ **so she works at a party store too, huh?** ” he muses aloud.

“… What do you mean ‘too’?” Alphys says, turning abruptly and then flushing once she realizes Sans might still be exposed, but is quietly thankful when he isn’t. “Have you met her?”

Sans mentally slaps himself for revealing that. “ **bumped into her a couple times, yeah,** ” he shrugs casually. “ **i guess she lives in my neighbourhood. it happens.** ”

“Wh-WHAT!?” she shrieks. “You KNEW about her and didn’t REPORT IT?!”

“ **i think she’s wrath, not determination,** ” he asserts. “ **heh, after all, i should know.** ”

The thickly set skeleton startles when Alphys suddenly appears to slam both of her hands against his desk. “She is Determination, and I will PROVE IT.”

“ **… and how the fuck are you going to do that?** ” he challenges.

“It’s very simple,” she withdraws, cackling as she thoughtfully taps her manicured claws to her scaly chin. “I merely have to find or create some social event where I could reasonably extend an invitation to her, and introduce her to the Royal Scientist _personally_.”

“ **ugh,** ” he groans. “ **i don’t want to hang out with her. that’s fucking lame.** ”

“Well, what do you suggest then? You want to invite her out for a candlelit dinner?”

He grimaces. “ **actually, that’s about the _last_ thing i want to do with her.** ”

“Well, why NOT!?” Alphys protests, leaning against his desk and glaring at him accusatorily. “After all, when I prove this human is a mage, you know it’ll be YOU he assigns to the project!”

“ **stop calling it that,** ” he grumbles, running his large palms down his ivory face over his sockets. “ **look, you want a social event to drag her to? tell her about pop culture night.** ”

Alphys ponders on this for a moment, tapping at the scales of her chin some more. Then she grins broadly, and throws her hand in Sans’ face, pointing at him. “No… YOU invite her!”

“ **the fuck?** ” he sneers. “ **why exactly do _i_ have to do it?** ”

“It will establish more familiarity between the two of you,” she beams delightedly. “A perfect start for a long-term project.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D
> 
> [Edit] Now with a poll!
> 
> Who actually invites Reader to 'pop culture night'?  
> A: Sans?  
> B: Or... Someone else?


	7. The Invite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DING DING DING IT'S SANS!

“ **about time.** ”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of the familiar voice, too lost in the muddled thoughts you’d been indulging in on your way home once again. Tonight you’d been called in to the flower store, so you had to change and get ready before heading out again. You were dreading every minute of it though, the work was monotonous and the tile floors were hard to stand on for hours on end. At least it paid well.

“Sans?” you ask, turning to the towering skeleton leaning against the brown brick of the corner convenience store. “Were you waiting for me?”

The seven foot tall monster straightens from the wall and moves to stand next to you, as if you’re walking together all of a sudden. But you don’t move an inch. Do you really want Sans of all people to know where you _live?_ Definitely not. He grunts when you don’t start moving again, and just turn to him instead.

“What do you want from me? I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” you press, guarded and completely confused.

“ **is your name _____ _____?** ” he asks randomly.

“Um, yeah? How’d you know that?” You’re pretty sure you had never actually introduced yourself to him, and honestly, he’d never asked.

“ **shit,** ” he curses under his breath. “ **i heard you met my… um, ‘friend’, alphys,** ” he admits. One of his massive hands leaves the safety of his pocket to run along the back of his skull anxiously.

“Oh yeah,” you remember. “We’ve been texting. She’s… _Interesting_ ,” you cringe. “Awkward, kind of nerdy, and _full_ of invasive questions I’m way too polite to dodge,” you chuckle.

“ **she seems interested in getting to know you, so she asked me to invite you to pop culture night,** ” he says… Begrudgingly? What’s with him?

“Why didn’t she just invite me herself?” you ask immediately. “She could’ve texted.”

“ **she wanted _me_ to do it, for some stupid reason,** ” he grumbles. “ **it’s tonight at six, at my place. are you in?** ”

“What’s involved in ‘pop culture night', anyways?” you inquire.

He straightens and blinks at that. “ **we watch human movies and shows as a group… stuff we didn’t have access to underground. why, are you _actually_ interested in coming?** ” He seems surprised.

“Maybe,” you admit. “It sounds like fun.” And it’s a nice out from working tonight, YES!

“ **you’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me,** ” he says angrily. “ **why would you want to come hang out with monsters? are you fucking _crazy_ or something?** ”

“What’s your problem, anyways? You invited me, I accepted, it’s a done deal,” you straighten, glaring up at him.

“ **you were supposed to say _no!_** ”

“Why would you bother inviting me if you didn’t _want_ me to come!?”

“ **are you coming _just_ to piss me off?** ” he balks.

“You know what?” you challenge. “YEAH. You terrorized me at work, got shitty with me when I defended you from your brother, and threw a fucking _table_ at me. I’ll take anything I can get that’ll _piss you off!_ ”

He growls at that. “ **you stupid crazy bitch. you’d better bring some fucking _amazing_ snacks.** ”

“I’ll bring the best shit you’ve _ever_ tasted. Hell, I might even _cook_ something!” you puff up proudly.

“ **where’s your fucking house anyway?** ” he barks. “ **i’ll come pick you up in an hour.** ”

“Follow me and fucking _find out!_ ” you invite him boldly, suddenly striding off towards home.

The two of you argue back and forth for the whole short walk there, shouting and swearing at each other about the invite, or just in general, when you finally make it to your front step. You angrily fish your keys out of your bag and fight to get them in the lock while he lambastes you.

“ **and wear something _nice_ for once,** ” he orders. “ **i’m not going to introduce you to everybody while you’re wearing pajamas and that shitty cardigan!** ”

“My pajama pants and cardigan are _amazing_ , thank you,” you sneer. “And I’ll wear whatever the _fuck_ I want!”

“ **i’ll be here at six, so you’d fucking better be ready!** ”

“Alright I will be!”

“ **fine.** ”

“FINE!’

Slamming the door in his stupid face and locking it, you throw your bag at the foot of the closet and start working your way out of your gloves and slush covered boots. Your veins feel like they’re on _fire_ , and you’d forgotten all about the soggy wet cold. It’s only when you bring your phone to your ear to call in sick that you realize what you’d just done.

“I’m going to go hang out with a bunch of monsters,” you rasp through your fingers, your hand having cupped itself over your mouth at some point. “What the fuck is actually _wrong_ with me?”

* * *

 

What the fuck was actually _wrong_ with him?

Sans lingered outside the front door for a minute or two, trying to process what had just happened.

First, he actually can’t believe you agreed to come. Obviously it was a trap, right? It _had_ to be. He’d just invited you to hang out with a group of dangerous monsters. Had you _any_ fucking sense? Were you completely _lacking_ a self-preservation instinct? He would think that the social stigmas against his kind would steer you away, but then you’d decided to come anyways. And only just to _spite_ him as soon as he’d backpedaled.

Second, your soul was definitely red. More than that – It was the brightest red he had ever seen – Brighter than either of the Queen’s brats, and they were still children. And, he couldn’t help but notice, that once you’d started shouting at each other it had even gotten brighter and redder than it already was. Did you actually just… Regenerate determination _at will?_ Right in front of him? Oh, the boss was _definitely_ going to love _you_.

Third and finally… Damn if _that_ wasn’t the most attractive thing he had ever witnessed. You had a lot of spark and fire, and he _hated_ himself for how much he enjoyed that. Never in a thousand years would he have thought he’d fall for a _human_ , but here he was, and he was falling _hard_.

He… _Really_ had to find a way to make you leave. Cut through that damned crazy amount of determination, crush your bravery and perseverance. Convince you somehow to just _stop hanging around monsters_ for fuck’s sake. It was the only thing he could think of to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this story. It's like a choose-your-own-adventure book that I get to write every time you guys vote on the poll. It's amazing.
> 
> Did that go anything like you were expecting it to? If not, score one for me :)
> 
> Next chapter poll: Where does she sit?  
> A: The couch, or  
> B: The floor?


	8. The Movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWW YEAH IT'S COUCH TIME.

“You’re late.”

At around 6:30, Sans had _finally_ returned to knock on your door. He looks you up and down, huffing a disapproving noise. “ **… are you fucking kidding me? you changed into a _different_ pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt?** ”

“You haven’t changed at _all_ , so I don’t get why _I_ should,” you admonish him. “Besides, I only _did_ because I didn’t feel like wearing the same thing I did in class all afternoon. I didn’t do it for _you_.”

The massive skeleton looks down at himself for a moment, then sighs. “ **whatever. you ready?** ”

“I need two minutes,” you tell him.

“ **fucking hell, you bitch at me for being late and then you make me wait?** ”

“It’s only two minutes. And it’s _only_ fair.”

“ **well… can i come in, then?** ” he rasps.

“No. Stand out there in the cold,” you grin.

“ **fuck you.** ”

“Buy me dinner first,” you tease absently. “Two minutes. Be right back.”

His sockets blink and widen as you go to shut the door again, and you hear a soft laugh from him right as it closes. You wonder what’s so funny.

Inside the house, you scrabble to scoop your still-warm culinary creation into a large container and snap the lid on, then set it at the bottom of a reusable plastic shopping bag and throw a bag of tortilla chips on top of it. Bringing it back to the door with you, you slide into your boots and pull on your jacket. Grabbing the bag you swing open the door.

“Ready!” you call out.

He’s not there. You poke your head out further, and notice he’s wandered down the street. You turn in place to ensure your keys are in your pocket before locking and closing the door behind you, then hurry to catch up to him.

“ **… don’t fucking patronize me,** ” he hisses quietly. You look up and notice the phone pressed to his… Well, the side of his skull where an ear would be on a human. His red ring for an eye glances down at you. “ **we’ll be there in a sec. bye,** ” he says next, hanging up the call. “ **what took you so long?** ”

“You said to bring snacks, so I was just getting that ready,” you huff, raising the bag in one hand as proof. “Trust me, you’re going to love this.”

“ **what is it?** ”

“My party food specialty – taco dip,” you explain. “It’s ground beef cooked with taco seasoning, loads of cheddar cheese, and cooked rice. Goes well with tortilla chips.”

“ **sounds like shit to me,** ” he grumbles.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you grin broadly. “I’ve gotten marriage proposals for this stuff,” you boast.

“ **whatever. ready to go?** ”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You take a step forward and suddenly you’re standing in a room. Stopping in your tracks, you look all around you at the new surroundings. It looks like an apartment, kind of a nice one actually, very tidy but not a lot in terms of decorations or sentimental keepsakes. The walls were stark white, and seemed to _shine_ they were so clean, free of scuff marks or fingerprints. You turn around in place and realize Sans is behind you, between you and what you’d guess is the front door.

“Sans, what just happened?” you ask, still mentally reeling from the sudden change in scenery.

He guffaws loudly at your perplexed state. “ **we’re at my place. i teleported you. surprised?** ”

You blink. Teleported? “Is that how you pulled off your disappearing act in the food court?” He nods. “Ah… Well, okay then. That’s… Efficient. Warn me next time?” you ask.

He frowns at that, kicking off his shoes and grumbling something incoherent under his breath as he stalks over to the couch. What, is he upset that you’re not fawning over his impressive magic skills? Honestly, it _is_ pretty amazing he can do stuff like that – and so _casually_ too - but you’re still sort of stuck mentally reeling from it.

Plus you realize this means you don’t actually _know_ where you are if you want to head home at any point. It creeps you out a bit, but you put on a brave face and make a mental note to solve that problem later. Until then, you decide to slide out of your jacket and hang it up in the closet.

“Who’s this?”

Looking up from where you’re tearing off your boots, you notice a tall, slender-framed monster with teal scales and yellow slitted eyes. Her hair is bright red and tied in a high ponytail, her workout top shows off her dense arm muscles, there’s a large scar over her left eye, and between her long fingers and in place of ears she has red webbed fins.

“Uh… Hi,” you introduce cautiously, holding out a hand. “I’m _____.”

Her lip curls apprehensively as she looks down at your outstretched hand, folding her arms aggressively instead of taking it. “You brought food?” she nods towards your bag.

“Sans wanted snacks, so I made something-“

“ _I’m_ the one that’s supposed to cook tonight,” she glowers.

“It’s not really a meal, it’s just-“

“_____!” a familiar voice calls. “There you are. Welcome, welcome!” Alphys appears from nowhere and greets you, taking your hand in both of hers and bobbing it up and down enthusiastically. “Come, right this way, we are almost ready to start.”

You let the strange lizard scientist lead you towards the livingroom, your bag of chips and taco dip forgotten in an instant.

“Now,” she says, puffing up proudly. “Everyone, this is _____, my new human friend,” she introduces you. You wave awkwardly at the group of assembled monsters.

Papyrus is sitting on one end of the couch, foot of one leg resting on the opposite knee, and he looks up at you and just scoffs. Sans has become one with the other end of the furniture, spreading his knees and slouching dramatically. The fish woman from earlier scowls at you as she emerges from the kitchen, sinking into the only other piece of furniture available, a love seat, which Alphys joins her on shortly, carefully interlacing her stubby golden fingers with her slender webbed ones. Aww, is she her girlfriend? That’s cute.

But now you’re left standing in the middle of the livingroom with nowhere to sit. The loveseat just barely fits Alphys and her girlfriend, plus you’re not really keen on squishing in next to a couple. The couch the two skeletons are sitting on _would_ be big enough… If Sans wasn’t slouching so dramatically, and if you were brave enough to actually try and sit next to Papyrus.

Sans seems to notice your quiet deliberation, so he shuffles to sit straighter and nods towards you. “ **need somewhere to sit?** ” he grins.

“Kind of? I guess I can just take the floor though,” you shrug.

“ **naw,** ” he says, shaking his head. “ **there’s room on the couch right here,** ” he suggests, pointing inwards towards his lap with both hands, grinning so wide you can see that one golden tooth off to the side.

“Eugh,” you scrunch your nose in disgust. Is he seriously trying to pull some moves on you? “No thanks.”

“ **what, think the big bad monster’s going to bite you?** ” he chuckles, then shakes his head. “ **not unless you ask me nicely first,** ” he drawls wolfishly.

Okay, he’s _definitely_ hitting on you, and you’re _way_ out of your element here. You’re in an apartment full of monsters somewhere in the city that you might be unfamiliar with. But you’ve already committed to spending time with them, and while you probably _should_ be running for the hills, stupidity takes over and decides to see how this actually plays out.

So long as you can find and set some boundaries, first.

You point accusingly at Sans. “You know what? _Fine_. But if you grope me I’ll snap your hands off at the wrist,” you threaten. Channeling Susan Ivanova seems like a good move.

He blinks at that, then cackles madly at your empty threat. Papyrus on the other hand seems to take offense.

“ **HOW _DARE_ YOU THREATEN MY SUBORDINATE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME,** ” he hisses in that scratchy voice, uncrossing his leg from his knee and leaning forward challengingly. “ **IF YOU HURT HIM, I WILL _END_ YOU.** ”

Boldly, you take a couple steps over and turn, sitting yourself on the open spot of couch between Sans’ legs and crossing your own. “Well, then he’d better keep his damn hands to himself,” you huff bravely. “What are we watching anyway, Alphys?”

“It was Undyne’s pick tonight,” she says, looking up at the fish woman. Finally, a name.

“I gave my pick to Sans, actually,” Undyne perks up, nodding towards you and Sans. You turn slightly to regard him with the corner of your eye.

He pulls a remote from out of nowhere and presses a couple of buttons on it, pointed towards the TV. “ **we’re watching the saw movies. i figured the boss here would enjoy them,** ” he says, gesturing towards his brother.

Of fucking course they want to watch Saw.

“ **WHAT ARE THEY ABOUT?** ” Papyrus asks.

“They’re horror movies where people get kidnapped and…” you find yourself answering for him. “Actually, sorry, I don’t want to spoil it too much for you.”

Sans shifts behind you, and you turn in place to see his expression. “ **you’ve seen them already?** ” he asks, surprised.

“Well, _yeah_ , they came out a while ago,” you shrug. “Don’t worry though, I won’t say anything else that could ruin it,” you promise.

He scowls at that. “ **fucking _unbelievable_ ,**” you hear him growl lowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A WILD FANART APPEARS! Thank you @shrinkingcoyote!](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/150675127115/shrinkingcoyote-heya-looked-that-last-few)
> 
> Heeeeee. He's trying to find ways to bother you but you're just so damn _determined_. What the hell is Sans even going to do to get you to leave??
> 
> Also I did not do Undyne justice in this chapter (Pun intended? You decide), but don't worry she'll develop more soon. Like all the characters, my interpretation of her for Underfell is very different.
> 
> IT'S POLL TIME!: I want to introduce a new character. Should I do that:  
> A: Next chapter?  
> B: Or, the one after that?
> 
> The future is in your capable hands, dear readers :)


	9. The Beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT FINE we can wait one more chapter. You will regret this.

To Sans’ surprising credit, he manages to resist groping you through the whole movie. You, on the other hand, can’t help but cringe at some of the more graphic scenes – Especially the ending – which sends you reeling into his hard body for a vague sense of comfort. You also can’t help but wonder whether or not that was his plan all along, but you know where you stand on that, and are just glad he hasn’t tried to take advantage of you for it.

Now that the first movie is over and the monsters have spent several minutes talking back and forth about the ingenuity of the ‘puzzles’ they’ve observed, everyone has decided to take a breather and indulge in dinner and drinks.

“You’re actually kidding me right now,” you say disgustedly. “You just _cannot_ be for real. You haven’t even tasted it yet!”

Sans has taken a large scoop of the taco dip you brought onto a plate, and is emptying a bottle of mustard over it. He grins broadly as he realizes how much that actually bothers you.

“ **everything’s better with mustard,** ” he insists. Then… He opens his maw and squirts some of the condiment right into his mouth.

“That is the _grossest_ thing I’ve ever seen dude,” you cringe.

He laughs as he takes a tortilla chip in his fingers, scooping a large amount of mustard-covered dip onto it and shoving the concoction into his massive maw. He freezes a moment when the flavours hit… Well, whatever it is that skeletons taste with. It _couldn’t_ be a tongue, right? He was obviously lacking in the fleshy body part department.

He crunches it slowly, and you wonder if he has a hard time chewing with those sharp pointed teeth, but it seems to cause him no trouble. “ **not bad,** ” he admits.

“Not bad?” Undyne perks up, looking over at you from her spot on the loveseat where she’s been cuddling and talking quietly with Alphys.

“ **ALLOW _ME_ TO SAMPLE THE HUMAN’S OFFERED COOKING,** ” Papyrus interjects proudly. The eight foot tall skeleton strides over to the set up snack table where you and Sans have been getting food. He takes a chip, eyes it suspiciously before glaring at you, then takes a small amount of the dip onto it and pops it into his mouth.

His sockets crease in confusion as he slowly grinds it in his teeth. “ **IT IS… EDIBLE,** ” he rasps half-heartedly. You look up at Sans who is looking at his brother in shock.

“Whoa,” Undyne breathes.

“Should I… Take that as a compliment?” you ask Papyrus warily.

“ **WELL, SINCE SANS DIDN’T DIE FROM IT, I THOUGHT I MIGHT CHANCE IT MYSELF, AS IT MUST NOT BE POISONED THEN,** ” he continues absently, collecting another chip.

“You thought I would _poison_ you!?” you ask, shocked. “Why would I do that? _Who_ _would do that?!_ ”

“ **hey sweetheart,** ” Sans says, tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention back on him. “ **get me a beer from the kitchen, will you?** ”

“You’re like ten feet away from the kitchen, get it yourself lazybones,” you sass back.

“ **aw come on,** ” he pouts teasingly.

Ugh, you don’t really want to indulge him. But then, you _also_ don’t really want to piss anyone off by protesting it too loudly. “ _Fine_. But only if I can have one too,” you demand playfully.

“ **yeah whatever, go for it,** ” he chuckles.

You take a step towards the kitchen and nearly jump out of your skin at a loud THWUMP from the livingroom behind you. Looking over you see that the loveseat has fallen onto it’s back, a very flushed and confused Alphys that is now upside-down on the seat, and Undyne using it as a launching point to come… Uhh, right at you.

“I NEED A BEER TOO,” she awkwardly proclaims. “I’m coming with you.”

“Uhh, okay,” you shrug.

And that’s how Undyne came to join you in the kitchen.

She opens the fridge and pulls out three bottles of beer while you go through the kitchen drawers hunting for a bottle opener. Finally locating your prize, you retrieve it and go to hold it up triumphantly when the physically intimidating fish woman slaps a webbed hand over your mouth. You startle and she grabs the back of your head with her other hand, locking you in place.

“Listen to me human,” she says in a rasping whisper, her serrated teeth inches from your face. “I don’t know what the hell is going on right now, but you need to understand something: Alphys has something planned for you, and odds are that whatever it is? It’s _not good_ ,” she hisses firmly.

… What?

“I don’t know what’s going on yet, or why _Sans_ of all people seems to be playing along,” she continues harshly. “But you _need_ _to stay on your guard_.”

You hold your hands up to gesture to her webbed one over your mouth, and she relents and releases you so you can talk. “Thanks for the warning,” you breathe quietly.

“Whatever,” she shrugs. “Why did you even come anyway? Are you fucking stupid, crazy, or both?”

You pop the cap off of one of the beers before bringing it to your mouth. “Both. Probably both,” you admit right before taking a swig.

Her eyes widen and she shudders uncomfortably, thin lips pressed in a herculean effort to restrain a laugh. “Nerd. Hey, do yourself a favour and cover the mouth of that when you’re not drinking it. Better yet, don’t let it out of your sight.”

You pause and cover the open mouth of the bottle securely with your palm. “You think your girlfriend is going to _drug me!?_ ” you hiss a whisper.

“Honestly I wouldn’t put it past her,” she grumbles softly. “She’d do _anything_ to earn her points with the Royal Scientist.”

“Who is that, anyways?” you ask. “Am I ever going to meet them?”

“Idiot. It’d be better for you if you never did,” she threatens, taking the bottle opener and uncapping a beer for herself.

“All right,” you sigh tensely, suddenly glad you decided to even have a beer tonight. “Thanks for looking out for me, Undyne.”

She squints at you. “ _What?_ ”

“I said-“

“I _heard_ what you said,” she snaps. “Don’t think I’m looking out for you, punk. I just wanted to make sure you get it into your _idiot human brain_ to _watch out_. Monsters can’t be friends with humans.”

“Well, why not?”

The boisterous woman balks at your bold question. “Excuse me?”

“Why can’t monsters and humans be friends?” you ask again. “I mean, granted, I don’t know the first thing about monsters besides what Asgore did, and the stuff you’re telling me _is_ kind of off-putting… But apart from all that, what’s the difference really?”

“Monsters are dangerous and have magic,” she answers dryly.

“Well, I can’t argue with the magic part, but have you caught up on world history yet? I bet we’ve done worse.”

She hacks a laugh before taking a swig of beer. “Name _one thing_ humans have done worse,” she challenges.

You grin. Challenge accepted. “World War Two,” you answer simply.

She blinks a couple times as she processes that. “Two?”

“Yup.”

“As in, there was another ‘world war’ before it, but that one happened anyway?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And… It was _worse?_ ”

“Oh definitely.”

“… How many died?”

“It’s been a while since history class, so I don’t remember the exact numbers,” you shrug. “But for both wars, it was to the tune of _millions_.”

“ _Shit_ ,” she spits. “You guys look soft and weak, but that’s a _fuckton_ of death. I’m actually kind of impressed. How’d you manage all that killing without _magic?_ ”

“Lots of little skirmishes, mortars, bombs… It adds up,” you confess morbidly. “In fact, the thing that ended the second war was when they developed a bomb that could destroy _an entire city_ … And then, they built _two_ of them, and dropped them both. On cities.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, not our proudest moment,” you trail off. “But, you see what I mean though, right? Humans are pretty shitty to each other sometimes too. I don’t think we’re that different, you know?”

“… Our king killed six human children,” she states pensively.

“Give me an Internet connection and five minutes, and I bet I can find a hundred humans who’ve done worse.”

She looks through you pensively for a beat or two, then finally takes a sip of her beer as she claps a strong hand on your shoulder. “All right. Maybe we’re not so different after all,” she admits, giving you a serrated grin.

You hold out your bottle to clink hers against in a toast. “To humans and monsters?”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, nerd.”

“Of course,” you beam. “Let’s get back to the group and watch the next movie.”

“How many ‘Saw’ movies are there, anyway?” she asks.

“Too many.”

She chortles uncomfortably as you leave the kitchen together, and all eyes look over at you leaving the small room together like pals. You look up at Sans and immediately groan in annoyance. At some point, while you had stepped away, he’d decided to start indulging in the taco dip by the fistful, and his red eye looks over at you, creased with guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans you fucking animal. XD
> 
> I didn't originally plan to invoke world war two, but wanted something Reader and Undyne could connect on. Don't worry they'll still be besties, it's just going to go a slightly different direction first.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER POLL: You fell asleep! In response, Sans has:  
> A: Been a gentleman and brought you a blanket, leaving you to snooze on the couch on your own.  
> B: Has gotten a bit grabby in his sleep.  
> C: Has violated all boundaries that ever existed between you.


	10. The Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OPTION B IT IS! Also, there were enough people who were undecided or waffled between B and C, that I decided to make it a little gropier than I had originally intended to appeal to them and the C voters. Kind of makes you wonder how bad option C was going to be, huh? >:D

You wake up startled and in a cold sweat. Wait, where are you right now?

The room is pretty dark, but there’s a light on somewhere behind you, so you can just make out that you’re still in the skeletons’ livingroom. Damn. You must’ve fallen asleep at their place.

It’s only as you’re getting your bearings that you hear a loud snore behind you, and you suddenly realize the position you’re in.

There is a large bony forearm holding you firmly by your waist, the thicker than normal radius and ulna telling you that it _must_ be Sans that’s got you grappled on the couch in front of him, hand pressed firmly into your hip. His other hand, however, has wandered up underneath your shirt, worked itself under your bra, and has a hot iron grip around your _bare tit_.

“Sans what the actual _fuck_ ,” you hiss.

First thing’s first, that hand has _got_ to move, but you need to do it without waking the skeleton – otherwise, he’d probably _never_ shut up about this. Very carefully, you reach under your shirt and grab his hand with yours, then slowly manage to pull it off of you and out from under your shirt. That was easier than expected, you think as you try and adjust yourself back into your bra from the horizontal position. The next hurdle is that other hand. Just as cautiously as before, you grab his hand with yours and try to pull him off of you. He mumbles something in his sleep, snorting once and then snoring loudly, as his other comes back up for round two, this time grabbing you over your shirt. Damnit, you need a new plan, fast.

Thank god, there is a throw pillow just within reach, balancing on the arm of the couch for some reason. You gasp as you grab at it with your fingertips, panicking when it tilts the other direction, but it doesn’t fall off, and instead just gently rocks back into place. You get it on your second attempt. Removing his grabby hand from your chest again, you put the pillow between it and yourself, and he latches on to it obediently.

He grunts as you try to remove the other hand again, and you freeze in place, worried he’s waking up. After a beat of tense silence, you hear another loud snore from him. It’s like he’s got a built-in wood chipper or something, holy damn that is rough and loud. How did you actually manage to _stay_ asleep right next to that _noise?_

In any case, you’ve _still_ got to get yourself out of this predicament so you can go home. Sue was kind of ticked that you had called in sick last minute after agreeing to come in, so you’d promised to work all weekend since Valentines was on Tuesday.

With your upper body freed, you manage to lean up on one arm so you can at least loosen his grip on you, and then slide out. You struggle against him for what feels like several minutes, then finally manage to free yourself from his hand. Unfortunately, wrestling out of that means the same hand, still intent on pinning a body against him, brushes low against your belly, and you restrain an intense blush at that. He’d fucking better be fast asleep.

Also unfortunately, fully pulling yourself away from him means falling onto the carpeted floor with a thump. You sit up and grumble at that, checking on Sans to see if it woke him up. Nope, still snoring. Good.

He shifts to roll the other direction, mumbling incoherent sleep talk as he grapples the pillow in a fetal position. It’s weirdly cute how the menacing skeleton could be such a cuddle bug. Looking around, you find a blanket and throw it over him.

You decide to get a glass of water from the kitchen before you go. Thankfully that seems to be where the light is coming from, so it’s no problem to find your way to it from the darkened livingroom. Opening and closing cupboard doors, you find the glasses and grab one. Before filling it from the tap though, you decide to give it a quick wash with the dish soap on the counter. Undyne’s warning earlier left you just a bit paranoid, so even though it _looks_ sparkling clean, you just want to make sure.

It takes about a minute to rub it down with your fingers in the soap, then another to rinse it and make sure all the soap is out of it before you even chance a sip. Finally it gets to a point where there are no suds forming, so you rinse it one last time and then fill it to drink.

Turning away from the sink to lean against the counter, you nearly startle and drop your glass.

A very tall skeleton is watching you, and it’s _not_ Sans _or_ Papyrus. His sockets widen as he realizes he’s been noticed, small white points of light in the pools of black that seem to focus like pupils on you. He’s got a slightly smaller rib cage than Papyrus, and his limbs seem narrower, yet longer. His all-black clothing save for the grey collar of his turtleneck underneath kind of makes him look like a slenderman - or maybe he reminds you of Jack Skellington from Nightmare before Christmas, who knows – either way, he’s tall enough to have to hunch forward to lean his skull against the door frame, arms folded up above his head out of sight. There’s a crack in each of his eye sockets – One coming down from his left eye to his mouth, and the other going from the right up and out of sight higher on his skull.

How long had he been standing there? Did he see you have to wrestle away from a snoozing Sans? You _really_ hope not.

“Uhm… Hello,” you attempt cautiously.

He seems surprised at your greeting. “ **Hello,** ” his voice booms deeply. It’s not rough or raspy like the other two skeletons you know, more calm and cultured, but still unnerves you for some reason.

You look at the glass in your hand and are immediately filled with regret. “S-sorry, I was just leaving,” you fumble, emptying the glass in the sink in a hurry and then resting it in the empty basin. “Shit, I should wash that shouldn’t I?” you say mostly to yourself. You’re pretty sure someone that lives here is a neat freak. And you’re _also_ pretty sure it isn’t Sans. You pick up the glass again and turn on the tap, overly conscious of the man watching your every move.

The new skeleton laughs charmingly at your antics. Suddenly his long, slender fingers wrap around the glass, setting it back into the sink. Another hand on the other side of you turns off the water again. You notice both of his hands, skeletal other than the solid palms, have large holes right in the middle of the large solid surface. How did he get those? “ **Do not fret over a glass, my dear. I will take care of it later,** ” he soothes.

“Sorry,” you mumble, turning towards the skeleton behind you. “I must look like a complete idiot right now, huh? I swear I was just leaving.” He absolutely _towers_ over you in this tiny kitchen, _holy shit_. Is he even taller than Papyrus?

He chuckles at that dismissively. “ **Tell me, how did you come to be in my apartment?** ”

“Well, Sans invited me to ‘pop culture night’, I guess?” you admit to the tall skeleton. “And then, he kind of disinvited me in the same breath… So, I came _anyway_ , just because it seemed to piss him off. I’m… Actually not sure what compelled me to do that, to be honest.”

There’s the briefest frown on his face, before he erupts into a soft laugh. “ **But, may I ask… How did you come to be here so _late?_** ”

“Oh, I guess I fell asleep during the second movie,” you admit sheepishly.

“ **… Was it _that_ dull?** ”

You giggle softly, shaking your head. “No, I’ve just seen it before.”

“ **Aha,** ” he nods. “ **You said you were leaving?** ” he points out.

“Several times,” you agree awkwardly, heading past him for the front door. “I’ll… Get out of your hair-“ Skeletons don’t _have_ hair! “Erm, anyways, _bye now!_ ”

“ **Wait a moment, human,** ” he calls after you. You stop your hurried escape to turn to him. “ **It occurs to me that it is _very_ late, and you are walking alone. May I… Accompany you?** ”

“Uh,” you think as you pull on your boots. “I think I’m okay. I walk home late all the time,” you shrug, sliding the closet door open and getting your coat off the hanger. You’re still not sure exactly where you are, but you check your phone and it has battery, so you’ve at least got GPS if you get lost.

He’s suddenly next to you, also fetching a long black coat from the closet. “ **I believe it would be terribly irresponsible of me to allow a young woman to walk home alone this late at night. Besides,** ” he grins. “ **We have only just met, and it would be an opportunity to get to know you.** ”

“Is that a requirement for hanging out at your place?” you smirk.

“ **I suppose it is now,** ” he chuckles, taking a pair of polished black shoes from the shoe rack. “ **Also, it occurs to me that a walk may assist me in returning to sleep.** ”

“Well,” you hum. “Okay, sure I guess. What could it harm?”

* * *

 

You love walking at night. The wind goes still and the air seems fresher, more energetic. Plus there’s a light, fluffy snow falling straight down. You catch some in your gloved hands and marvel at the different shapes the individual flakes have in the islands of light along the sidewalk, before they slowly melt away. The atmosphere is enchanting.

“ **So you mentioned before you are attending school? What are you currently studying?** ” the tall skeleton asks, continuing your idle conversation as you walk together.

“Computer networking technology,” you answer back, still enthralled by the snowflakes melting on your gloved fingers.

“ **Truly?** **I would have suspected one of the sciences, honestly,** ” he compliments. “ **You strike me as very intelligent.** ”

“Oh, geez,” you fluster. “Maybe if highschool wasn’t so crazy for me… I mean, I _kind of_ enjoyed chemistry and what psychology courses I could get myself into? But I had a lot of other stuff going on, so I lost my focus,” you sigh.

“ **If you had a passion for those before, what made you choose to return to school for computers?** ”

“A lot of reasons,” you shrug, dropping your hands and wiping your gloves against your coat before sticking them into your pockets. “The major one was finding a diploma program that wouldn’t take more than a year to do, because I didn’t want to spend too long in school again. Another big one was just because computer networking was the hardest program the college I found had to offer. I saw a challenge, so I took it.”

“ **So, are you looking forward to a career in computers and networking technologies?** ”

“… Not really,” you admit. “Actually, this is just a stepping stone for me – Information Technology is _always_ hiring these days, and it pays better than most jobs you can get. I’m doing this just to get into a career that gets me into my own place, then from there, I’ll try and figure out what I _really_ want to do.”

He chuckles at that. “ **You have not even finished your degree and are already looking towards the next thing,** ” he observes, amused.

“Hey, people switch careers all the time these days – I’m just planning ahead for it,” you grin up at him.

He laughs softly again at that. Once he composes himself again, his soft white eye lights meet yours. “ **May I ask you a personal question? If it is too personal, you do not have to answer if you do not wish to,** ” he assures you.

“Sure, I guess? Fire away.”

“ **You seem to be very career focused, young woman such as yourself. May I ask… Have you given some thought or consideration for… Starting a family?** ”

“Hmm,” you hum. That wasn’t really what you were expecting, but it’s not entirely off topic. “Well… I do love kids,” you say. “And, I’ve always sort of wanted my own? But, I’ve never really dated anybody I could see _that_ future with. So, unless something happens to change that? My career’s all I’ve got in mind.”

“ **I see,** ” he grins broadly, tapping his sharp chin with the crazy long bone fingers of one hand.

“Oh, I’m down this way,” you gesture to the turn ahead, then decide to stop. “I think I can make it the rest of the way, Mr… Uhm… Shoot, I didn’t even get your name, did I?” you realize embarrassingly.

He immediately offers a hand to greet you with. “ **Dr. Wingding Aster, at your service, though you may also call me Gaster,** ” he introduces himself. “ **Miss…?** ”

“_____,” you reply. “Doctor, huh?” you notice, cautiously grasping his hand in yours. “You wouldn’t happen to be the Royal Scientist, would you?” Undyne had warned you about him… But he seems so nice?

“ **I _would_ happen to be, miss _____,** ” he confirms, smirking down at you.

His grip is very strong as he raises your arm, leaning down slightly to place a gentlemanly kiss on the back of your gloved hand. After that old-fashioned gesture of affection, he releases you.

“ **I suppose this is where we part ways,** ” he observes, straightening with his hands folded behind his back. “ **Well, it has been utterly fascinating to have met you.** ”

“Uhh, sure. Likewise, Gaster,” you say, taking a couple steps backwards towards your street. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

He beams handsomely at you. “ **I genuinely look forward to it.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember you asked for this. If you had asked for him to be introduced a chapter _earlier_ , Sans would've woken up and you would've walked home with him instead :P Don't worry, I won't hold that against you, it gave me some headspace to develop Undyne more, which a few people said they wanted.
> 
> Also yes that environment-setting snow paragraph was totally just copied from chapter 18 of Not Your Doll core. I have no regrets.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER POLL: Choose wisely:  
> A: Sans POV chapter, or  
> B: Reader chapter/plot development


	11. The Scientist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans POV it is!

Sans and Alphys were sitting in the Royal Scientist’s office for the first time in four days. They looked over at each apprehensively, while Gaster paced briskly back and forth in front of them. They were in big trouble, and both of them knew it. It was just a matter of time on when he was going to bring the building down on top of them for whatever had pissed him off this time.

Finally, Gaster stops working a hole into the floor with his manic pacing, a hand rising to rest against his lower jaw. “ **I met the most _fascinating_ human last night,** ” he announces, turning to his pair of assistants, who are now giving him their _full_ attention as they sweat anxiously in silence. “ **Her soul was the _brightest_ of reds, her mind was keen and sharp, and she was of child-bearing age… And, she was _standing in our_ apartment _, Sans!!_ ”**

Sans flinches when Gaster’s fists suddenly come crashing down on the cheap IKEA desk separating them. For once, it doesn’t crumple like tissue paper under the tier five boss monster’s strength. He must not have been giving it his all.

“ **Which one of you _imbeciles_ discovered her _first?!_** ” the Royal Scientist demands angrily, eye sockets black as pitch.

“S-Sans was!” Alphys, ever the teacher’s pet, pipes up quickly to blame him. “He bumped into her a couple weeks ago!”

Gaster’s head tilts to regard Sans darkly. “ **Is this true?** ”

“ **yeah, but i didn’t realize she was determination back then, boss,** ” he lies. “ **heh, with the way she was shouting at me, i thought she was wrath for sure.** ”

The menacing skeleton withdraws, sockets closing tightly as he pinches the bridge of bone above his nasal passage. “ **Wrath is a _secondary_ aspect for Determination,** ” he chastises him. “ **And, since her soul is not _obviously_ orange for Bravery, her behavioural tendencies towards wrath _clearly_ indicate her as a _mage!_** ”

He puts his hands together in front of him in a praying gesture, taking a couple large strides to the left before pausing again. “ **Someone explain to me exactly _how_ she came to be in our apartment. _Now_.** ”

“Th-that was my idea!” Alphys chimes in again, and Sans can’t help but notice her tail swish to the side happily, as if she’s expecting a pat on the head. “I met her at her work and cleverly got her contact info, then _I_ took the initiative and invited her over to our weekly get together to indulge in human pop culture! I-I thought that bringing her right to you would be proactive,” she mumbles at the end.

“ **Alphys do not _lie_ to me,** ” Gaster threatens idly.

“What? B-but, I-“

“ **The human told me herself that it was _Sans_ who invited her,** ” he clarifies boredly.

“It was _my_ idea though!” she snaps back challengingly, then withers as Gaster turns fully towards her at her tone. “She had already met Sans a few times, s-so I thought, if _he_ invited her, it would bring them closer together!”

Gaster turns to regard Sans, brow bones raised in slight surprise. “ **Is it _true?_ You are courting her already?** ”

He stiffens at the implication, magic rushing to his cheeks as he can’t help but remember how her ass had been rubbing against his pelvis all night last night. Nevermind the fact that every so often something gory would happen on the TV, and she would make this little gasping noise as she leaned against his ribcage through his shirt, occasionally clinging to him as if he’d protect her from whatever was happening on screen. Then when she fell asleep, she had cuddled right into him, draping her arms around his neck. Alphys and Undyne had left at that point, and Papyrus was too disgusted by the sight to help get her off of him. Pinned and feeling tired himself, he doesn’t fully remember what happened long after that, just had vague memories of her hot and squishy body next to his own hard bones…

“ **not exactly,** ” he admits truthfully, running his fingers along his cervical vertebrae anxiously as he tries to shake the suddenly lewd thoughts from his head. “ **she thinks we’re _friends_ or something stupid.** ”

“ **But is it your _intention_ to continue seeing her, and try to develop some… _Stronger_ form of relationship?** ” he presses.

Sans has to think about that one for a moment. “ **i never really _planned_ to. why?** ”

“ ** _Plan_ to,** ” Gaster orders, straightening proudly. “ **For the good of monsterkind.** ”

“ **what?!** ” Sans balks. “ **fuck _no!_ i don’t want to have _kids_ , least of all with a _human_ i barely even know. that’s fucking _gross_.** ” The whole _project_ was fucking gross. They meet a human mage that isn’t one of the Queen’s kids, and their first move is to try and _breed_ her, like some rare breed of _dog!?_

But, there were limits on what he could protest out loud. Gaster had a history of dusting other monsters for _less_.

“ **We _need_ to restore monsterkind to its former glory, preferably before there is another war, and _that means_ we _need_ to find human women with red souls, in order to create the next generation of hybrids and boss monsters,** ” the Royal Scientist insists.

“ **how do you know she even _wants_ kids, anyway?**” Sans shifts uncomfortably in the small metal folding chair. “ **you _know_ the whole thing’s a bust if she doesn’t even want children in the first place.** ”

“ **She _does_ desire children of her own,** ” he asserts confidently. “ **She is just ‘waiting for the right man’, so to speak.** ”

“ **and how are you so sure?** ”

“ **I walked her home last night under the pretense of keeping her safe, and managed to get her to tell me her mind on the matter,** ” he grins, suddenly looking down to straighten and flatten the folds on the front of his black labcoat – indicating his status as the Royal Scientist, of course – humming softly as he preens. “ **She _was_ responding to my charms, _naturally_ , but I did not know that I had competition in the form of my worthless _son_.** ”

“ **you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,** ” Sans groans, holding his skull in both hands out of stress.

“ **If you will _not_ take action on this opportunity that has presented itself, then _I_ will take the human girl for _myself_.** ”

Alarm bells are going off in his mind at the information, sounding too loudly to even acknowledge that Gaster had just addressed him as his son for the first time in over a year. She was walking with Gaster last night? _Alone?_ And he’d been… Ugh, _flirting_ with her already. The thought made him sick in the pit of a stomach he didn’t physically even _have_. Gaster was clearly fixated, and was _not_ about to let her go so easily. How the _shit_ was he going to protect her from these _psychos now?!_

… Protect? The word bubbled forth from his mind all on its own. He never thought he’d be forced into a position where he felt the need to protect a human, let alone this one, who had already become an expert at pissing him off and making him uncomfortable in such a short amount of time. But there it was. He was _protective_ of her. He needed to _protect_ her. From Gaster, Papyrus, Alphys… A human against his own kind.

Fuck if his life wasn’t complicated enough already.

“ **… okay,** ” he grumbles. “ **i’ll do it.** ”

“ **You will do _what_ , exactly?**” Gaster asks sternly.

“ **i’ll _date_ her or whatever, but i’m still not thrilled about knocking her up,** ” he cringes.

The Royal Scientist’s thin boney lips twist upwards in a smile, pleased that his son has decided to participate in the project. “ **If your immortality is a concern, I can sever your link to any children you father with her, as I did mine with Papyrus and yourself,** ” he offers.

It _wasn’t_ , but he can’t exactly _tell_ him that. “ **sounds fair,** ” Sans nods obediently.

The Royal Scientist grins broadly at that, delighted to have won. “ **Alphys,** ” Gaster barks as he snaps his attention back to the idle golden lizard sitting next to Sans. “ **You are to convince this human to visit us here at the lab. I want to scan her soul and try to understand why her determination levels are so high for an adult. That is _your_ job.** ”

“R-Right!” she beams, basking in the attention suddenly on her. “I’m on it!”

“ **Excellent,** ” he hums, pleased. “ **That concludes the meeting for today. Dismissed.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster aggressively ships you with monsters. Beware. Sorry he's not actually a nice guy, those of you who commented that you liked him. He was just putting up a front to get information out of you, as he's _very_ manipulative.
> 
> I don't have a poll for next chapter, as I've been writing this all day. I think I'm just going to go back to Reader's POV for a bit and write in some plot. Fun times are ahead :)


	12. The Workaholic.

Holy _crap_ , what the hell had gotten into the monsters all of a sudden?!

Every minute of the day since that Friday night you’d hung out with them watching horror movies, _somebody_ was texting you. You’re a little annoyed that Alphys shared your contact details with the group without asking you first, as you were now getting texts from Sans and Undyne in addition to her own. Sans and Alphys seemed intent on inviting you over again – You’re really not sure why, as you weren’t exactly great company falling asleep like you did last time. Undyne’s messages, on the other hand, vary between concerned questions about what the other two are talking to you about, and curious inquiries about her Internet research on the two World Wars and other dark parts of human history. Of the three of them, she doesn’t seem to want anything more from you, and seems to be the most stable and sane.

You’re relieved that you’re working at the party store instead of the flower store again this Monday night, because the weekend had been absolutely _insane_. Fourteen-hour shifts, few breaks to be had, and a constant stream of customers, boxes of flowers to unpack, and tons to run up and down to the florists packing bouquets in an almost assembly-line fashion. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and you’re not looking forward to working there again, but at least it’s almost over. The party store by comparison was only moderately busy. There was the odd mom and her kids looking for last-minute valentines cards to hand out at school the next day or decorations for a kids party, or the odd gentleman just scrambling for some heart decorations or a balloon order. You’re a little tired of seeing the colours red, pink, and purple everywhere.

It’s when you’re waiting at the register on a lady and her son decide between the merits of Transformers cards versus Ninja Turtles cards that you hear the door open again. Looking up, you see a tall skeleton monster casually strolling in, red eye and golden tooth gleaming in the fluorescent lighting. Sans.

He looks around until he sees you, then strides confidently over to you irregardless of the woman and her kid. “ **’sup,** ” he greets.

She wheels around at the new voice and her eyes widen at the sight of the monster. You sigh as she grabs the boxes of V-day cards from her kid’s hands and puts them back on the shelf, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the exit while he protests, mumbling that they’ll try another store.

“ **the fuck was _that_ about?** ” Sans curses.

“Gee I wonder,” you roll your eyes sarcastically. “What’s on your mind Sans?”

“ **i wanted to know why you keep dodging our invites, it’s starting to piss me off,** ” he rumbles at you.

“I keep telling you guys, the next free night I have is Thursday, and I want to use it to study for my test the next day,” you huff.

“ **what about tomorrow night?** ”

“Are you _actually_ kidding? I’m working the flower store, it’s supposed to be insanely busy!”

“ **that’s ‘cause it’s that stupid human love holiday, right?** ” he observes, leaning his arms on the counter and slouching forwards so he’s eye level with you. “ **blow it off and come out to dinner with me.** ”

What? “Sans you’re not _seriously_ asking me out for Valentine’s Day,” you scoff.

“ **the holiday’s got nothing to do with it,** ” he lies obviously. “ **i just want to see if you’ll make good on what you said the other night,** ” he grins wolfishly.

“What did I say?” you ask, bewildered.

“ **i said ‘fuck you’, and you said ‘buy me dinner first’,** ” he smiles broadly. Your face heats up as you remember the off comment you’d made. “ **so, if i buy you food you’ll fuck me, right? that’s the deal?** ”

“Oh my god _what_ ,” you fluster. He’s a skeleton, and again, visibly lacking in fleshy parts. How would that even _work!?_ “I wasn’t _serious_ , I was just being flippant!” you cringe at yourself.

“ **so, you’re a _tease_ , then,**” he accuses playfully.

“Sure, whatever. I’m a tease,” you grumble. “I’m _really_ not interested in dinner, or… _That_. Sorry. I’d rather be working and make some extra money while flowers are still in season.”

“ **how much would you be making?** ”

You grab the calculator next to the till and punch in some numbers, sighing because you know it’s not actually a whole lot. “If I work six hours, sixty-nine dollars,” you admit. “Before taxes and deductions,” you add.

His brow bones seem to press together in disgust. “ **that’s fucking _pathetic_ ,**” he observes.

“I know, right?” you groan. “Why do you think I decided to put myself through school?”

He straightens from the counter and shoves a hand into one of his pockets, withdrawing a wad of crumpled bills and sorting through it.

Your eyes narrow in a glare. “The fuck are you _doing_ , Sans?”

“ **i can afford seventy bucks for one night,** ” he chuckles.

“ _Get the fuck out._ ”

He startles as his eye darts from the pile of bills in his hand to meet yours. “ **what?** ”

“Get _OUT!_ ” you scream at him. You grab a cup holder with a bunch of pens for signing credit card slips. He staggers backwards as you wind up to _hurl_ it at him. The plastic hits him on the skull as the pens explode outward in every direction. “GET OUT OF MY STORE, _RIGHT FUCKING **NOW**!!_ ”

“ **what the _fuck_ did i even _do!?_** ” he howls in an angry panic.

“WHAT DO YOU _THINK!?_ ” you screech. “YOU CAN’T JUST SAY YOU WANT TO _FUCK_ ME, AND THEN OFFER TO FUCKING _PAY FOR IT!_ I’M NOT SOME _WHORE_ YOU COMPLETE _FUCKING **ASSHOLE!**_ **FUCK!** ” The one tiny part of your brain that’s not overcome with blind rage is _really_ glad you don’t have any other customers right now.

“ **oh shit,** ” he gasps, abruptly shoving the wad of cash still in his hand into his pocket. “ **no, _fuck_ , that’s not what i meant-!**” He ducks his head just in time to dodge the calculator you’ve just thrown at him. “ **calm the fuck down you crazy _bitch!_ i didn’t mean _that!_** ”

“What else could I possibly _take_ from that?!” you ask, pissed that the calculator missed and grabbing a heavy stapler to have at the ready.

He holds his massive hands out in surrender, closing his sockets and bracing himself. “ **all i was thinking was, if money is so important to you that you can’t take _one_ fucking night off all week, i’d cover what you’d be making anyways so you could.** ”

You blink at that, stapler still at the ready. “Why the _hell_ would you _do that?_ ”

“ **’cause you look like _shit_ , sweetheart,**” he says honestly. He opens his red eye to look past his outstretched hands at you cautiously. “ **seriously have you _slept?_ and what the fuck are they feeding you at home?** ”

Not yet entirely mollified, you slowly set the stapler down as you consider what he’s saying, surprised at the show of concern. You admit that you have been working yourself ragged with the whole Valentine’s Day rush at the flower store, on top of your part-time party store gig. You’d been sleeping like shit, and eating even worse. But that’s no different from your usual holiday routine, honestly… Wait, when did you break that nail?

“ **listen,** ” he says, slowly dropping his hands and opening both eyes now that you’re disarmed. “ **when do you get off work tonight? i’ll make it up to you.** ”

You reflexively scowl at him. “Make it up to me _how?_ ”

“ **don’t know yet,** ” he shrugs, sliding his hands in his pockets.

He flinches as you grab the stapler to point it at him. “You’re not going to try hitting on me or anything, right? I am _not_ interested in fucking you. _Period_.” How would that even _work_ , anyways?

“ **i was just messing around, i wasn’t actually _serious_ ,**” he backpedals.

“Damnit, Sans,” you groan bitterly, dropping the stapler again and throwing your face into your hands. “I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re actually joking around or not!”

“ **you’ll learn,** ” he smirks. “ **tell me what time you’re done at.** ”

“At nine I lock the doors, but I won’t be done until nine-thirty,” you confess.

“ **alright. i’ll be back around then,** ” he nods, turning to leave.

“Sans, hold up a sec,” you frown.

He stops and turns to look over at you.

You look guiltily at the mess of pens on the floor, and the cheap calculator in two pieces. “Sorry,” you say weakly, feeling ashamed.

He just cackles at that, shaking his head and pushing on the door with his body to leave.

* * *

 

 _Shit_ you were feisty. His normal approach wasn’t going to work here _at all_ – But he had no idea you would go so far as to _throw_ things at him. He ports home, chuckling at that. You definitely had a healthy amount of Wrath he kept tripping over, but what about your _other_ secondary aspect, Passion? His magic rumbles heatedly through him at the thought. The crazy ones _were_ always the most fun.

Well, if he could ever get this relationship that far, that is. He felt a little emasculated when you said you didn’t want to fuck him, but on some perverse level, he was elated you’d even thought to _say_ it. That must mean that you’d _had_ to consider it on some level, right? He grins as he wonders what you might’ve pictured him doing to you. He had a few ideas of his own.

“ **Did you see her?** ”

Gaster’s voice snaps him back to reality, leaving him extremely hot and bothered. “ **yeah boss,** ” he nods, trying to contain a heated shudder.

“ **Well? What is the verdict?** ” the looming skeleton asks impatiently.

“ **this is going to take a while,** ” Sans withers. “ **trust me though, i’ve got it under control.** ”

“ **And how _exactly_ do you have this ‘under control’?** ” he demands. “ **She is not with you, and has not returned in near a _week_.** ”

“ **she’s a fucking workaholic, alright?** ” Sans spits. “ **but i’m going to pick her up after work tonight.** ”

“ ** _Well_ ,**” the Royal Scientist relents. “ **I _suppose_ that is a _start_.** ”

Without any further interrogation, the Royal Scientist slinks back to his cave in the far bedroom of the apartment. The remaining skeleton sighs. He _did_ like you, but wished in futility that the circumstances were different from what they were. And he _had_ to find some way to get you interested, otherwise Gaster would take matters into his own hands, and he couldn’t stand the thought of _that_. To Gaster, you’d be little more than _livestock_. To Sans… Well, he actually didn’t know _what_ he wanted with you yet – just being attracted to a human was uncharted territory for him. He just hopes he can catch your interest soon, before the scientist loses his patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking skeletons, how does it work? XD In the background Gaster has been hassling everyone to get more familiar with the Reader, while Reader's just ambivalently working herself to death.
> 
> This poll doesn't directly relate to the next chapter, but more to the story as a whole: Should the Royal Scientist keep trying to hit on her even though he's 'assigned' Sans to the task?  
> A: Yes give me a love triangle  
> B: No Gaster should back off
> 
> Next chapter: This fluff is more like fiberglass insulation :o


	13. The Valentine.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a pair of large strong hands grab your arms from behind, locking you in place.

“ **boo.** ”

“SANS!” you grumble. He lets you go and you wheel around to swat at him, getting only air as he backs up a step. “What are you even doing in here? I locked the door almost half an hour ago!”

He raises a large hand and waggles his fingers at you. “ **magic, sweetheart,** ” he chuckles. **“heh, you think a locked door matters to me?** ”

“Well, it _should_ ,” you huff.

“ **you done yet?** ”

“Yeah actually, just let me grab my things.”

You wrap your scarf around your head before pulling on your coat, fastening it up quickly and grabbing your bag. Bundled up and ready for the cold, you nod towards the front of the store for Sans to walk ahead of you. He blinks at that until you hold your arms out, gesturing wildly towards the front. At that, he finally gets the message. You unlock the front door again and broadly invite him to step outside while you set the alarm. Alarm set, you step out and lock the front door behind you, tugging on it twice to make sure it holds fast.

“ **so, now that i’ve finally got you to myself,** ” he says, sounding overly pleased, almost like he’s happy he’s caught you in a trap. “ **what do you wanna do tonight?** ”

You shrug weakly. He wasn’t wrong earlier about how tired and worn down you felt. And hungry. You’d packed half of a leftover sub earlier, but it had gone soggy, so you ended up throwing most of it out. “I actually just want to go home,” you mumble through your scarf.

He groans. “ **naw let’s do something. you hungry?** ”

 _Starving._ “Not really,” you lie weakly.

“ **i’m taking you out to eat,** ” he says firmly.

“You’re _not_ buying me dinner,” you grumble, unable to forget his earlier shenanigans.

“ **tch, you can pay if you want, i don’t give a fuck,** ” Sans scoffs. Then his red eye twinkles down at you. “ **and, apparently, neither do you,** ” he grins sharply.

“Ugh!” you huff. But you can’t help but crack a smile at the clever execution there.

The two of you set off in the direction of the nearby mall.

* * *

 

You decided to split a pizza together (Which _you_ paid for in its entirety – No _way_ you’d give him the satisfaction of paying for any part of what was essentially dinner) and then after that he just wanted to walk places while talking and trying to get to know each other. After finding a park to sit down in, you’ve engaged him in a game you call ‘tell me something’, and you go back and forth telling each other various somethings to fill out the conversation.

“ **tell me something… that makes you feel proud,** ” he asks.

“Hmmm,” you think. “Well, I haven’t dropped off the dean’s list yet, so I’m on track for graduating with honours,” you puff up proudly. “Your turn. Tell me something that makes you happy.”

“ **the stars,** ” he says lightly, looking up at the night sky. “ **can’t fucking see _any_ in this city though,** ” he follows irritatedly.

“Well,” you hum thoughtfully. “You can always pick out Jupiter, at least.”

He looks down at you in surprise. You point towards a bluish speck low in the dark night sky. “ **no shit, huh? you like space? stars and shit?** ”

“Yeah sort of,” you say wistfully. “It’s your turn to ask me something,” you nudge him.

“ **alright. tell me something… _sexy_ ,**” he asks lewdly.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have anything to share on that subject.”

“ **awww,** ” he whines. “ **no kinks, places you like getting touched?** ”

“Nope. That’s all top secret info,” you tease.

“ **hey, it’s almost midnight,** ” he realizes, grinning broadly as an idea pops into his head. Shit, is it really? “ **say, you wanna be my valentine sweetheart?** ” he turns to you and asks.

“Seriously?” you scoff.

“ **humour me?** **i don’t indulge in a lot of human holidays you know.** ”

“Still not interested in fucking you,” you say, voice monotone. Still not actually sure how that works, but you’re _not_ up to asking him for the details. That would indulge him _way_ too much.

“ **come on, i didn’t mean that,** ” he grunts. “ **although, can’t help but notice how often you deny it,** ” he teases. “ **something on your mind?** ”

“Eugh,” you cringe. “ _No_.”

“ **c’mon,** ” he presses, nudging your side with his elbow. “ **whaddaya say? valentines?** ”

“ _Normally_ that question is asked accompanied by a gift of flowers or chocolate,” you smirk.

“ **you drive a hard bargain _____,** ” he hums. “ **stay here for a sec.** ”

Then he vanishes, having teleported away.

“Sans what the fuck,” you hiss a breath in the cold. Grumbling, you take a glove off with your teeth so you can work your phone, texting to ask where the hell he went.

 *** brb** is all he sends back. God damnit Sans.

You nearly shriek when he suddenly appears again right in front of you. “ **how’s this work?** ” he asks, holding out… A couple of chocolate bars?

“You went to a convenience store?” you snort, surprised.

“ **chocolate’s chocolate,** ” he shrugs. “ **so, how ‘bout it?** ”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, giggling. “… All right. I’ll be your Valentine Sans, since you seem to be so insistent,” you relent, accepting the offered chocolate bars and sliding them into a coat pocket. It’s been a while since you indulged in this holiday yourself, after all, and Sans’ petition _seems_ harmless enough right about now.

“ **nice,** ” he says with delighted success. “ **so what do i get out of the deal, anyway?** ”

“You get me not kicking your ass for the next twenty four hours?” you offer teasingly.

“ **fuck that,** ” he grumbles. “ **how about a kiss?** ” he drawls lowly, leaning in.

“How about a _hug?_ ” you counter, clapping a hand over his looming mouth.

“ **… okay,** ” he says, taking your hand from his face. He gestures for you to stand up from the bench. “ **c’mere sweetheart.** ”

Standing to face him, you cautiously reach up and place your hands on his clavicle at either side of his neck, while he leans down slightly to pull you into himself, flattening his large hands against your back. Despite his hard bones, he’s not totally uncomfortable, and is actually pretty warm and cozy. The fur lining of his open coat brushes your face and smells weirdly nice, masculine, even if there _is_ a tangy hint of mustard to it.

The hug lasts a moment too long, though, and you feel his hands shift. “ _Sans…_ ” you sigh into his shirt, sliding your hands down and trying to gently push away, but he’s holding onto you pretty firmly. “You did _not_ just grab my butt.”

In response he gives the cheek he’s palmed a light squeeze. “ **i don’t have squishy parts like this. can you blame a skeleton for getting curious?** ” he chuckles. “ **this is really nice.** ”

“You asshole!” you curse, struggling against the massive monster.

“ **don’t have one of those either,** ” he says matter-of-factly.

“AUGH _SANS!_ ” you hiss, flailing against his ribs until he lets you go. “You are the _worst!_ ”

“ **happy valentines day sweetheart,** ” he beams at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fell fluff :P
> 
> Thanks everyone for your responses to the last chapter poll, it was very informative for me. Now, while the overwhelming majority chose to not have Gaster try and woo Reader later in the story, I've decided to not throw that theme out entirely, but I've instead taken all of your comments on love triangle tropes to make it work better. I feel like there is too much comedy and conflict value lost if tossed out entirely, but I can also use all that feedback to avoid the things you specifically don't like about it, in order to keep the story enjoyable for everyone, myself included :)
> 
> Plus, while I did pose the question to you guys, dear readers, I'm ultimately the one writing it, so what I write goes :P Sometimes I'm going to be like Toriel giving you the choice between cinnamon or butterscotch, but then sometimes I'll have to just go ahead and make a cinnamon-butterscotch pie anyways. Your preference is noted and still important, even if it isn't what you were exactly expecting in return.
> 
> I don't have a poll for this chapter (and probably not the next few either) because I want to get some more plot out there. There's a few characters to re-introduce still - Drew, Derrick, Toriel, Frisk, Flowey - plus at least one new one I think you're going to love.
> 
> Stay tuned. Love you guys! And feedback is always ALWAYS welcome & appreciated :)


	14. The Eyes.

As you decide to start gathering up your things from class five minutes before the end, you feel a hand tap your shoulder from behind you where you’re sitting. Ugh, what’s he want now?

“There is a wine tasting tonight at the chateaux. Would you care to join me?” he invites.

“Sorry Devon, I’m working,” you groan. You also can’t help but be aware of the date today. Was he seriously asking you out on Valentine’s Day? Exactly how many times were you going to have to dodge the walking rich boy stereotype before he got the hint? It’s not like you even _had_ a dress to go to such a fancy place for such a fancy party in the first place.

“… It’s Derrick,” he corrects bluntly.

“Whatever dude,” you dismiss automatically.

“It’s just…” he attempts. “It occurs to me that today _is_ Valentine’s Day, and…”

“Look, I’m _really_ not interested,” you shut down immediately. “Sorry - I’ve got places to be tonight. Besides,” you grin, remembering the chocolate bars in your pocket. You take one out and start unwrapping it for a bite. “I already _have_ a valentine.”

Never in your life would you have thought you’d be valentines with a seven-foot tall skeletal molester like Sans.

* * *

 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket while you’re waiting to catch a bus home.

*** oh my god you have gotta help me.**

*** Sans what’s wrong?** you text back to the urgent plea.

*** can you come over tonight? look its really fucking important.**

Damn him, it _had_ to be a trap. You’ll be _very_ glad when this cursed day is over. *** NO! How many times do I have to say I’m working???** you text back in annoyance.

*** this is serious like a life or death situation or something.**

*** What’s the problem anyways?** you text, just in case there is actually a legitimate emergency. Maybe his apartment is burning down?

*** ive been asked to watch the queens brats last minute and i dont wanna do it alone. these kids are monsters.**

You stare at the message for a moment, then burst out laughing. Intentional or not, that was a pretty good one. *** Sans are you actually being serious right now?** you reply.

*** yes! i know you said your working but ill pay you to help me babysit instead. come on please? im severely outnumbered over here.**

*** Sans…**

*** come on, fifteen bucks an hour?**

*** SANS NO.**

*** twenty?**

*** Sans it’s NOT the money - I don’t want you paying me for anything. I don’t accept money from friends, it’s a rule.**

*** awwww.**

*** Are you REALLY that desperate for help?**

*** yes. yes yes yes.**

You sigh. *** What time should I head over?**

*** as soon as you want. your a lifesaver valentine.**

*** There had better be some kids running around when I get there,** you warn. **‘Cause if you make me call in to work on one of the busiest nights of the year just to have me over so you can grope me again…**

*** naw thats just bonus.**

*** SANS!**

*** there are kids here. promise.** There _really_ better be.

*** All right, fine. Need me to bring anything?**

* * *

 

The apartment building the skeletons have taken up residence in is a pretty nice one, you’ve got to admit. Sans buzzes you in immediately when you call him, so you head straight over into the elevator as another resident steps out. Eighth floor, right from the elevator and all the way down the hall – It’s a little weird to navigate in reverse the first time, but at least it’s easy to remember. Taking a breath, you knock on the door.

The door swings open and you’re greeted with a girl. At least, you _assume_ she’s a she, as she’s honestly rather pretty. A green and red striped sweater that cuts off three-quarters of the way down her arms hugs her slight frame and ends at her waist, with fitted tan cargo pants covering her legs. Her shoulder-length hair is light brown, flat, and straight, with bangs that are cut very evenly, ending perfectly just past her carefully shaped eyebrows. A golden heart-shaped locket hangs from her neck, and she has a butter knife gripped in her free hand.

Now, those are the relatively _normal_ attributes about this young girl standing in front of you now, only half a head shorter than your own height. As for the details that have your curiosity piqued…

She’s human, and that surprises you slightly – Maybe Sans meant monsters figuratively instead of literally? Being a monster himself, and same with the Queen, you’d honestly assumed otherwise. But, two things jump out at you, hinting that she may not be _entirely_ normal. First is the pet flower monster that seems to have wrapped its viny roots all around her arm. A floral face ringed with six broad yellow petals hiding behind her neck and peeking out at you shyly with beady black eyes. Second, and probably more jarring, is her bright red eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee I wonder who that could be? >:) This chapter is slightly short on word count because I wanted to get this reveal out there, but the next one promises to be way longer. Also the narration feels awkward and clunky to my fussy brain. I may have to go through and fix it later.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER POLL: Should I reveal something about the kids to Reader?  
> A: Reveal something.  
> B: Do not. (Save it for later)


	15. The Game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry B voters, that last poll was kind of all-or-nothing and the A's won, so you're getting a reveal.

“Hi! Nice contact lenses,” you compliment cheerily. They look just like the ones you got in at the party store for Hallowe’en last year. “Where did you get them?”

She groans and turns away. “ _Sans!_ ” she calls out, sounding annoyed. “You didn’t tell me she was _human!_ ”

You hear Sans’ familiar chuckle nearby. “ **i didn’t tell her you’re human, either.** ”

She huffs and stomps away, disappearing into the kitchen, butter knife clutched and at the ready for whatever she’s preparing in there. The flower, still clinging to her, watches you apprehensively before they both completely disappear out of your sight.

As you step in and start taking off your boots, you look over and see the large skeleton sunken into the couch with another human kid at his side. They (You’re not sure if it’s a boy or a girl at first glance, unlike the first one) have messy and thick dark brown hair, their skin is golden like honey (Unlike the other girl, who is very pale), and they have dark brown eyes. They sit up on their knees and lean against Sans to get a better look at you, and you get a better look at them. They’re wearing a golden heart locket that matches the girl’s, boy’s blue denim overalls, and a soft pink blouse? That almost makes discerning their gender even _more_ confusing.

Sans sets down the book he’d been reading to the younger child on the coffee table, rocking his massive body out of the seat to stand. He then grabs the kid to carry them under his arm like lumber, and they giggle as they struggle uselessly in the massive skeleton’s grasp, before he walks over to you. When he reaches you at the door, he lifts up the adorable kid in both hands as if he’s offering them to you, while they just smile shyly and hang limply in his massive hands. Their cute little socks on their tiny feet are white and green striped.

“ **i’m so glad you’re here,** ” he says, sounding genuinely relieved. “ **this one’s frisk, and that other brat’s chara. ages eight and fourteen,** ” When you don’t accept the outstretched child, he shrugs and sets them down. They immediately sprint away to the kitchen letting out squeals of delight. “ **think you got this covered? i need a nap,** ” he drawls lazily.

You gasp. “ _Sans!_ I came to _help,_ not _take over_ , you lazybones!” you scold. “You aren’t going _anywhere_.”

“ **what? come on sweetheart, i’ve been at this for two hours already,** ” he pleads.

Folding your arms you glare up at him. “If you even suggest ditching me again I will just turn around and leave,” you threaten. “And then I might not ever come back again,” you add after a thought.

He grumbles at that, hanging his head and glowering at you, knowing he’s defeated. “ ** _fine_ ,**” he relents.

“One question though; How come you’re ‘babysitting’ Chara too?” you say. “If she’s fourteen then she could be alone with Frisk and babysit them herself.”

“It’s because I apparently ‘get up to nonsense’ when we’re left alone.”

You look up and see Chara leaning against the kitchen doorframe, eating half of a bagel sandwich. Frisk is leaning against the wall next to her with the other half clutched in both their tiny hands, chewing adorably. Chara’s available hand is tangled up in Frisk’s messy mop head. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture, or if she’s using the small child as something to rest her weight against. But whichever it is, Frisk doesn’t appear to mind.

“I see,” you wither. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk about you like you weren’t there.”

“Whatever,” she shrugs.

“So, wow,” you hum. “You’re all the Queen’s kids, huh?” you ask, conscious of the flower still clinging around Chara’s one arm. “But, how does that work? Did she adopt you and Frisk?”

Frisk looks up at Chara apprehensively while Chara sighs. “It’s a long story neither of us are really up to talking about. You’ll just have to deal with it.” She stands from the wall and drops the hand in the smaller kid’s hair. “Well, okay. Since you seem to be crazy enough to stick around, let alone _show up_ , quick introductions are in order.”

Chara puffs up proudly as she introduces herself as the Princess of All Monsters, which Frisk groans at, making you wonder whether or not it’s her official title, or if she’s just trying to demonstrate some sort of authority. Frisk on the other hand, somehow has a more distinguished title – Ambassador to All Monsters. Chara is _very_ particular as to how she introduces Frisk – She tells you that Frisk is biologically female, but that they prefer non-gendered pronouns like ‘they and them’, because they don’t like to be slotted into a box.

“That makes perfect sense to me kid,” you smile down at them. “Labels rarely do anything good for people.”

Frisk has a brief look of surprise on their face, then smiles broadly as you easily accept them.

“Oh, and don’t forget about Azzy here,” Chara continues, holding out her entangled arm. The adorable little flower is staring at you very nervously from his safe haven in her hair. “Come on, she’s _human_. What’s _she_ going to do to you?” she soothes.

You take a careful step forward to greet the flower, while it seems to recoil in horror. Chara shoots you a glare when you slowly bring an arm up towards him, but relents when she sees your very careful approach. ‘Azzy’s beady eyes glance between your face and outstretched finger, studying you cautiously, before he crawls delicately around her arm down towards you.

“Nice to meet you, Azzy,” you greet kindly.

“H-howd- I mean, um, hi,” the gentle flower replies.

 _Wow_ he is utterly precious - he sounds like a cute young boy. You’d grab at his petals and smooth them between your fingers if it wasn’t for Chara’s watchful red eyes on you. She seems _very_ protective of the sentient plant.

“Well,” you say. “It’s been very nice meeting all of you. So what does everyone want to do?”

* * *

“Sans, you did _not_ just pull the yawn and lean on me.”

His massive hand grips your opposite shoulder as he chuckles softly, leaning his head in close to your ear. “ **so what if i did?** ” he says lowly, warm breath brushing past the skin of your ear and cheek.

Going to extricate his hand from your shoulder, you notice he has several paper bills in his hand from the game box. “You cheat!” you hiss, tackling his arm as you go after the stolen money. He cackles at your aggression, and he’s _clearly_ trying to get you to fall on top of him with how far he leans his hand back behind his head, but you manage to retrieve the pilfered notes before he’s successful. You uncrumple them with your fingers and smooth them out as best you can, before putting them back in the bank.

You’ve managed to interest the kids (And Sans) in a rousing game of Monopoly, sitting on the couch next to the skeleton while the three kids are sitting on the floor around the small coffee table with the game board. After a couple of false starts, you decide that you ought to be the banker in order to prevent everyone else from cheating. Sans aside, it’s actually going pretty okay.

Sans has taken both Baltic and Mediterranean Avenue and dropped a pair of ‘seedy hotels’, as he calls them, right next to the start, while Chara has collected the green set through trades and is aggressively developing them. Azzy, having relocated from Chara’s arm to sprout up from the carpet floor next to her instead, has been taken for granted in every trade so far and will probably be bankrupt as soon as he hits one of Sans’ hotels, while Frisk has managed to stay mostly under the radar. They’ve actually got a couple of complete sets on the cheaper sides of the board, and has been slowly developing them as they amass cash as a buffer to protect them from the more expensive sides of the board. It seems like a good strategy, and tells you that there’s clearly more to the little ambassador than meets the eye.

“My turn!” Chara says cheerily. She snatches the dice up, and then pauses as she turns slightly to look at you. “Hey, before I go, want to trade?” she asks.

“What have you got?” you grin.

“You’ve got Marvin Gardens,” she notes. “Can I buy it off of you? I’ll give you three hundred for it.”

But that would complete another set for her, and it’s _got_ to be worth more than three hundred cash to her. “Hmm, _nah_ ,” you reject. “Make me a better offer.”

“… Three fifty?” she pleads.

“I’ve got enough cash right now,” you shrug.

“Come on, _please?_ ” she smiles sweetly.

Well… Three hundred and fifty _is_ a lot for the one property, and you kind of want Chara to like you. You sigh, smiling. “All right, fine. You drive a hard bargain,” you say, holding up the wanted property as she gathers up her cash.

“CHARA!”

You’re surprised at Frisk’s outburst. The quiet child had barely said anything all night, but now their little face is flushed and is glaring up at Chara. The teenager hesitates a moment, looking over at Frisk with a playful smirk.

“Yes, Frisk?” she grins.

“Stop _cheating!_ ” Frisk demands.

“You _first!_ ” she counters. “Hypocrite!”

Oh crap, they’re fighting. “Whoa, hold on guys, what’s going on-“

“I’m _not_ cheating!”

“And how would anyone _know_ that!?” Chara says in a scolding tone.

“I can’t do _anything_ about dice rolls, they’re different every time!”

“Oh, so you HAVE been using your magic!”

Wait, magic?

“Only because you cheat _every time!_ ”

“AUGH!!”

Chara lets out a guttural cry as she _launches_ herself at the smaller child. In an instant you drop the wanted property and fly off the couch to restrain the larger kid. She flails as you grab her around the waist, pulling her away while she grabs at Frisk’s hair, but her fingers find no purchase on their thick locks. Somehow, you manage to hold back the lanky teen, pulling her backwards with you as you drag her back to the couch.

“OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH!” you bark authoritatively, hoping you can somehow diffuse this situation without any more fighting.

“I’m going to tell her,” Frisk threatens, upset at being attacked just a moment ago. They seem okay, if a little frazzled from getting knocked over like that.

Chara howls. “Don’t you _DARE!_ ”

Frisk sucks in a breath while Chara begins flailing again in a panic. “CHARA AND I-“

“NO NO NO NO-“

“-HAVE _MAGIC!_ ”

The struggling teen falls limp in your arms, defeated. You reposition her to sit next to you on the couch instead, and she huffs angrily and folds her arms, looking pointedly away. Frisk on the other side of the coffee table does the same.

“Frisk are you okay?” you ask. They nod sharply once. “Chara, how about you?”

She blinks and turns to look at you. “Yeah? I’m fine, whatever.”

“Good,” you say, relieved. “Now, does somebody want to explain to me what that was about?”

“Frisk can reset moments of time,” Chara reveals abruptly.

“And Chara gets in peoples heads and changes their minds!” the small child counters, still upset.

“Are you guys playing a game?” you ask playfully.

“NO!” Frisk shouts in frustration. “Look, I’ll prove it to you. Think of a really big number, wait five seconds, and then tell me it.”

That’s a pretty strange request, but you’re curious so you decide to indulge it. “How big of a number?” you ask.

“In the millions. Make it a good one.”

Hmmm. “Okay, how about seven-“

“Seven million six hundred and thirty-two thousand and ninety-four.”

Your jaw _drops_. “How did you _do_ that?” It’s like the kid read your mind!

“I made a reset point before you told me it, then I went back to it after I heard it and repeated it back to you,” they explain, almost as if they’re bored out of their mind about their own power. “Need more proof? I can do it again and again. I call it Save/Load – Like a save point in a video game.”

“That’s…”

“Crazy, right?”

Your eyes narrow at the kid, whose own brown set are twinkling at you mirthfully. “You can stop that now,” you say. “Okay, Chara, how does yours work?” you ask curiously.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she smiles charmingly. “But first, you don’t happen to have any _chocolate_ , do you?”

“Actually, yeah,” you beam. “In my coat pocket. Why? Do you want some?” you offer.

“I’d _love_ some,” she grins.

Standing from the couch, you go to head over to the closet when a tiny hand catches your wrist and locks you into place. “Stop!” Frisk cries. “Think for a second – What were you _just_ about to do?”

“I was just getting some chocolate for Chara,” you answer, confused.

“Exactly! But _why?_ ” they insist, expression very determined.

You think about it for a second. She was a nice kid, and had asked sort of nicely, you- _Oh_.

“Oh wow that is _creepy_ ,” you cringe. Frisk smiles gently up at you, pleased you figured out that Chara had somehow manipulated you into doing something for her. And so easily too! You hadn’t even noticed! “That is actually kind of terrifying,” you admit.

“My magic is, basically, I get _whatever_ I want,” the skinny teen grins delightedly. “I can influence others into doing things for me or into protecting me, just like _that_ ,” she snaps.

“How do you _both_ have magic!?” you exclaim. “I’ve never met any humans with _magic_ before!”

“We both have red souls,” Chara continues. “Red is the colour for ‘Diligence’, or ‘Determination’. According to the monsters that makes us human mages or something.” Red souls? Determination? You have so many questions.

“It was the only way either of us was able to survive Underground.”

You look down at Frisk, who is holding onto your sleeve and hanging their head sadly. Instincts taking over, you scoop them up in your arms and head over to the couch with them, hoping they feel comforted. They wrap their tiny arms around your neck, appreciative of the warm embrace.

“Well, no more Monopoly then,” you smile. “Since you’re both filthy cheaters, I don’t see how this can continue to be fair.”

Frisk giggles into your shoulder while Chara chuckles, nodding.

“How about we switch to a movie?” you ask them both.

“I want to watch Tangled!” Frisk cheers, pulling away from you and gently plucking locks of your hair, lifting them away from your head and letting it slowly fall back down. You smile at that, then glance over at Chara. She nods her assent.

“Tangled it is,” you say cheerily. “Sans, where’s the remote?”

You look over at the massive skeleton. His eye sockets are firmly shut, and his rib cage is gently rising and falling. He’s slouched into the couch so much he’s practically developed a symbiotic relationship with it.

“ _Sans!_ ” you groan. “How the crap did you SLEEP through that!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup it's Chara :P I don't tag reveals like that until after they happen, which is why my main Not Your Doll story didn't have the Pregnancy tag until seventy-odd chapters in. Anyways, surprise! You get all the kids. There's an explanation for it coming later.
> 
> Also yes she wears red contact lenses just because they make her feel cool/creepy. Her eyes are not actually red. I've known teenagers to do stuff like this so there you go. My thing in highschool was a men's black trenchcoat after all XD
> 
> I don't have a poll this time around because I'm feeling a little uncreative, plus I have an idea for how the next chapter will go already.


	16. The Ally.

“Azzy, are you okay?”

The little flower’s head perks up at you adorably, blinking his beady black eyes in confusion. “H-huh?”

“You disappeared during the fight earlier. Are you alright?” you press. He’d come back shortly after the movie started, as if he’d been waiting for the fight to blow over.

“U-umm, yeah,” he says quietly.

“Do they do that a lot?”

The flower nods.

“Sorry, flowerbud.”

He looks up at you, blinking again. “Why are you apologizing?” his soft voice asks.

“I guess I’m sorry that it happened at all?” you shrug. “I know I couldn’t have prevented it, but I still feel bad that you ran away. I was worried about you.”

He hums at that, bobbing his petals to one side thoughtfully.

“Did you like the movie?”

“It was alright,” he shrugs. Well, as much as a small plant can shrug, anyway. ”It was a little weird for me.”

“Because it centers around a golden flower?”

His tiny brown eyes look up at you in surprise. “W-well, now that you mention it…”

You can’t help but giggle at his little expression, confused yet trying not to laugh. He blushes as he meekly looks back up at you.

“Why…”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you being… So nice to me?” the flower asks.

“Well, why not?”

“I don’t understand,” he says softly. “I’m a monster. Aren’t humans and monsters supposed to be enemies?”

You shrug. “Maybe we were, once upon a time. But I wasn’t around then, so I don’t know. Were you?”

“No…”

“And, since you guys surfaced, everyone _seems_ to be getting along, right?”

“… Not really.”

He hangs his little floral head away from you as if he’s wilting and it’s a fight to not grapple him in a comforting hug. Instead, you decide to gently pat him with a couple of fingers, hoping that works. Surprised at the contact, he turns back to you, tiny white cheeks betraying a pale pink blush.

“Have humans been mean to you?” you ask.

“Well…” he mumbles. “Not… Exactly? People are nice to our faces, but, I know they’re saying nasty things about me and other monsters as soon as we walk away. It makes Chara angry a lot.”

“Ahh, Canadian passive aggression,” you nod in understanding. “Err, sorry about that. Some people act nice, but aren’t nearly as friendly as they seem. It happens a lot more than we admit.”

He hums pensively, digesting that.

“I don’t know what the answer is to get monsters and humans to start getting along,” you add. “But, I hope we can overcome our differences soon, you know? You guys aren’t half as bad as you make yourselves out to be.”

“We have too many differences,” he muses. “Too much bad history. I don’t think it’ll ever work.”

“It’s been less than a year since you guys surfaced, Azzy. Have a little faith, alright? I’m sure that people will come around in time.”

Azzy blinks at you a couple of times, bobbing his head to the side curiously. “Huh,” he breathes.

“Now, I’m sorry if this is a little insensitive,” you admit. “But, do you have teeth to brush? I want to get everyone ready for bed soon. Frisk’s already on the edge of passing out.”

He blushes, giving you a tiny smile. Oh my god, he has the cutest little smile. And _teeth_ , surprisingly!

“Geez you’re cute,” you giggle. “Need a lift?” you ask, holding your arm out.

You wait patiently as he, very cautiously, uproots himself and grips your arm with his rough, hairy roots. They feel like dry straw and tickle your arm, but you manage to hold it in until he looks up at you and gives you a sharp nod. Then together, you tear the other two children from stacking things on a snoozy skeleton, Chara giving you stink eye the whole way there.

* * *

 

“_____ has a red soul too, doesn’t she?”

Sans turns from the sink where he’s setting some dishes in the soapy tub to soak to see Chara, who is leaning against the doorframe.

“ **how’d you know?** ”

“Lucky guess,” she smirks. “Also, I’ve never had somebody _tackle_ me like that. At least, not since before I fell.”

“ **heh. she’s got a lot of wrath of her own. might even give _you_ some competition. where’s frisk?** ”

“Asleep on the couch. Asriel, too,” she answers idly. ”Is _____ your girlfriend?” she presses.

Sans isn’t sure how to answer that. He’d like her to be? But then, the pressure his dad was putting on him made it an extremely awkward subject to approach - nevermind the fact that she didn’t seem at all interested. He turns back to the sink to grab a rag as his massive shoulders give a non-committal shrug.

“Does Gaster know?”

“ **… yeah. they’ve met.** ”

“Shit,” Chara breathes.

“ **little kids shouldn’t swear,** ” Sans immediately scolds. He doesn’t particularly _care_ , but knows that Tori would.

“I’m fourteen and you swear all the time,” she replies flippantly.

“ **just don’t tell your mother that.** ”

“I won’t if you won’t.” Chara purses her lips thoughtfully before speaking again. “Say… Speaking of mom, should I tell her what’s going on?”

Now _there’s_ something Sans hadn’t considered – Telling Toriel about the human. If there was one person that could get Gaster to back off, it’d be the Queen for sure. He pauses drying a plate as he mulls over that option.

But then… Getting Toriel involved would mean cutting the human off from monsters entirely. And… He wasn’t sure he wanted _that_. Well, he wasn’t sure _what_ he wanted exactly, but something tore at him, just for having the thought.

“ **no,** ” he grumbles, shaking his head as he continues wiping the plate in his hand of all moisture. “ **she’s got enough shit to deal with running the embassy, let’s not bother her about some stupid human.** ”

Chara’s eyes widen, blinking in surprise. Then, her expression settles into a playful sneer. “You _like_ her,” she asserts.

He turns and glares, red eye flaring. “ **shut the fuck up.** ”

“Aww, does the big bad skeleton got a widdle crush?” she teases.

“ **watch it, kid. that’s a good way to get yourself dusted,** ” he idly banters back.

Chara snickers at the empty threat. She steps away from her lean against the wall and rests a closed fist on her hip, her other hand up to wave a finger at him. “Humans don’t turn to dust like monsters, Sans. If you killed me you’d have to chop my messy body into bits, stuff me in garbage bags and hope nobody finds them, and use peroxide on all your floors to get the blood out,” she sasses back morbidly.

“ **tch, you humans are just all fucking kinds of annoying, aren’t ya? that sounds like a shitton of work,** ” he groans, turning back to empty the sink.

“Let me help you.”

His sockets widen, then narrow suspiciously. “ **what?** ”

“I said-“

“ **i _heard_ what you said, _chara_ ,**” Sans snaps. “ **what i _want_ to know is what do you mean by that, and why would you even bother?** ”

“Hmm,” she hums, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Well, a couple of reasons I guess: First is, if she falls for you, then Gaster’s _got_ to back off, right?”

He grumbles. That was _already_ his plan. “ **what else you got?** ” he demands.

“Second is, I just think it’d be really funny,” she chortles.

“ **excuse me princess?** ”

“Well,” she straightens, looking down and picking at loose threads from her nightgown. “Back then you always _swore_ you’d never date a human, no matter how much your dad was trying to push us together. So, I think it’s kind of hilarious that you’re smitten with one _now_ , after all these years. Besides, I know how I can help you. Do you still… Really like cute socks?” she asks, looking up and grinning slyly.

If Sans wasn’t already a skeleton, he’d go pale at the mention of his one weakness. “ **you’re a fucking demon, kid. you know that?** ” he growls.

“I bet she’s got something she likes just as much. Don’t worry, Sans - I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“ **you’re not going to use magic on her, are ya?** ” he warns.

“Won’t need it,” she asserts. “Just raw determination.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chara ships you with Sans now. And yes, he still has a sock fetish *waggles eyebrows at you*.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER POLL: Need a social activity for Reader and the monsters to build plot on. Does she:  
> A: Go shopping with the girls, or  
> B: Go to the arcade with all the monsters?


	17. The Mall.

“Oh my _god_ _____, you have GOT to try _this_ on!”

You side-eye the dress that Chara’s pulled off the rack and thrust in your direction. You reluctantly take it from her eager outstretched hands and look it over. The pattern is _way_ too busy, and it’s not your style at all. Plus it _is_ a dress, and you’re not a fan of how short the skirt is. It would demand way too much attention. Also, not to labour the point, but _it is a dress_ , and you don’t need one, least of all one like _this_.

When you agreed to this, you didn’t realize it was an opportunity for Chara to treat you like a living doll. You grumble inwardly at that. Outwardly, you just shoot the lanky princess your best fake smile.

“Wouldn’t fit,” you shrug, smirking at her as you pretend to check the tag. “Sorry.”

“What?” she frowns. “But, it’s a medium?”

“Naw, it’s too big.”

“ _Well_ ,” she starts. “I’m _sure_ they have your size! I’ll try again,” she insists, thumbing through the rack again. You groan and rest your forehead in your hand.

You had managed to dodge the aggressive invitations from the monsters until the weekend, when Chara had suddenly decided to kidnap you with Undyne and Alphys for a shopping day. Literally, she had shown up on your doorstep (Did Sans tell them where you live?) and said she was determined to make you come with.

Why the hell did you agree to go shopping with Chara, Alphys and Undyne again, and didn’t just slam the door in their faces? Were you _stupid?_ Did you have something to prove to them or what? Whatever the reason was, you were _miserable_ for it. Girl stuff just isn’t your thing, and you had _no idea_ just how girly Chara and Alphys could be.

And that’s not even touching on the fact that Alphys brought another friend of hers; A tall, creepy-looking robot with four eyes and four arms. He was introduced as Mettaton, and Alphys said that he was famous underground for a TV show he used to run. Curious, you asked what it was about, but Undyne and Chara were suspiciously quick to change the subject.

“I found a small?” Chara drags your attention back to her fashion show starring you and you alone.

“ _Too_ small,” you lie, grinning playfully as you bury your hands in your coat pockets and shrug again, refusing to take the offered apparel.

“How!?”

“I’m some totally-not-fictional in-between size that means that I can’t try on any dresses today,” you joke. “It’s a real problem.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously at you, hanging the dress back up with a huff. “Okay _____, what’s with you? Why did you come shopping with us if you won’t you try anything on?” she asks, clearly annoyed. Damn it, you’ve done it now.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I’m really not a fan of being dressed up like this,” you admit.

“Tell me about it?” she asks, suddenly sympathetic.

“Uhh,” you stammer. Damn, you didn’t realize you’d be getting into your baggage with her today. “Well, it’s a… It’s a long story,” you say sheepishly, looking away a couple racks over where Mettaton is trying to get Undyne into something exceptionally frilly as well. Wow, she looks _pissed_. Maybe you and her have something in common here? She might be completely out of her element here as well.

“We’ve got time,” she beams, practically skipping over to the assembled monsters by the changing room. “Hey guys, let’s go for frozen yogurt after this, okay?” Chara asks them, though knowing her, it’s probably less of a question and more of a command.

Alphys buys a couple of skirts from the fancy clothing store, and you gawk at the amount of money she spends on them, also at the fact that she managed to find some that went to her ankles instead of her knees. But then again, she isn’t very tall (Maybe five feet maximum) and they might be just knee-length for you. You would almost ask her where she found them, if A) you hadn’t already shut down all of Chara’s attempts to dress you up, and B) if skirts were at all practical. They wouldn’t be very warm for the winter, and wouldn’t be something you could wear to either of your jobs.

The group leaves the store and Chara charges forward, confidently leading the way to the froyo place. Each of you gets in line, the person serving you eyeing Chara as well as your three monster cohorts, but you and the princess just share a smile. At least they’re not turning anyone away. Maybe they’re too scared to? That’s an unnerving thought. It’d be nice if people could see that, despite appearances, monsters were actually pretty chill.

The royal child seizes a table by dragging over an extra chair to make five, and all of you sit down around it with your questionably healthy yogurt-based desserts. You topped yours with assorted fruits and sprinkles, while Chara seemed to pile on as much chocolate as possible. There might be a couple of strawberries peeking out from it, you think.

“Okay _____,” Chara leads. “Tell me what’s up with you. Why do you suck at shopping?”

“Ugh,” you groan. She was pretty determined not to let this drop, wasn’t she? “I guess, the short version is; I don’t like getting dressed up because of my parents? My mother tried to groom me to be a miniature version of her, and that meant suffocating me with every girly thing she could find and trying to turn me into a model. She used to get _really_ mad when I didn’t play along.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she gapes.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Sorry I was such a downer.”

“No, it’s okay,” the teen relents. “Sorry I was so pushy. I’m like that sometimes.”

“What’s this about?” Undyne perks up.

“Chara was trying to get me to try on dresses and I wasn’t having any of it,” you shrug weakly.

The fish woman blinks. “You hate that crap too?”

“Really? You too?” you blink as well. “Did we just become best friends?”

She squints at you, then grins toothily. “Maybe. Say, if you hate clothes shopping, what _do_ you like?”

“About malls?” you question. “I guess maybe bad food and video games.”

The typically quiet scientist snorts. “Just like Sans,” Alphys remarks, amused. Chara shoots her a look, but you can’t tell what it’s supposed to mean, while the golden lizard just shrugs gently at the princess.

“Oh, really? He likes video games?” you ask, surprised. Smiling gently, Alphys nods.

“Maybe you have some stuff you both like?” Chara suggests with a grin. “There’s a games store back down that way,” she jerks a thumb behind her. “Want to check it out after?”

“Sure!” you agree easily. “Sounds awesome.” That sounds like way more fun than being asked to try on dresses.

“And after…” Chara smirks devilishly. “Maybe you’ll let me try out one more clothing store on you?”

You frown as your slump in your seat. She cackles at your defeated posture.

“Not like that fancy place we were just at – There’s a store further down from the games store that’s basically all pajamas. It seems to me that might be more your style,” she offers. You nearly startle as you feel a foot gently tap your leg under the table, indicating your pajama pants you figure.

Chuckling at that, you agree.

Conversation with the monster group is… Well, it’s actually pretty awkward at times, especially when they refuse to answer questions you ask about them, or blatantly change the subject. You still don’t know what Mettaton is famous for, and his four yellow and red robot eyes have barely left you, staring creepily down while he silently studies you. One of his red gloved hands rests on his chin in pensive thought, while another carries his own bags, and the remaining two arms are crossed across his midsection. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to be a defensive gesture or not, but he seems pretty closed off.

He’s really unnerving with the way he keeps looking at you, but you’re determined to find out more about him and get him to open up.

You and Chara eagerly lead the way to the videogames store, and you both instantly attack the bargain bin. Undyne and Alphys head in, Undyne examining sports games and Alphys looking into the Nintendo DS and 3DS section. Her tail tellingly bobs up and down as she explores some of the anime covers.

“What’s good?” she asks.

“Uh,” you think. It’s got a good mix of old PC games and console games, but a lot of them are adventure RPG games where you fight monsters, and you’re not sure whether they’d take offense to that. “How about… Sims 3?” you offer, holding up a copy you’ve found in the bin.

“What’s that about?”

“Well, you create families of characters and create houses for them, then you can get them jobs or make them work on hobbies and stuff for money. It’s kind of a wish fulfillment game – You can do anything you’ve ever wanted to do vicariously through them.”

“Sounds _boring_ ,” she grumbles.

“Alternatively,” you add. “You can create sims of people you don’t like and torture them, by locking them in small rooms and denying them their basic needs.”

“... Hmm,” she hums, amused.

You startle as a red gloved hand snatches the game from you, then Mettaton marches with it over to the startled cashier. “Ring this up please,” he demands curtly, withdrawing a black leather wallet from his jeans pocket.

What part of that explanation appealed to him exactly? You shake your head, trying to dismiss the idea that it might’ve been the torture part.

“… _____?”

That voice. _Fuck_ that voice. And he’s coming out of the game store… Right at you.

“Are we about done here?” you ask quickly, suddenly anxious to leave.

The princess blinks. “Why-“

She’s shoved to one side as the new man grabs at you, but you jerk away. “Damnit _____, stop avoiding me!” he demands angrily.

It’s Drew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been terrible at updating all of my fics lately D: Sorry. Here's a long chapter to make up for it. It doesn't feel perfect to me and I feel like I skimmed over some detail. Let me know how it reads, okay?
> 
> Also, I have TWO POLLS for next chapter! First:
> 
> Who comes to Reader's defense next chapter?:  
> A: Chara,  
> B: Undyne,  
> C: Alphys, or  
> D: Mettaton?
> 
> :O And for the end of the next chapter, which do you want to see:  
> A: Sans and Reader, or  
> B: Alphys and Mettaton? (basically characterize the crazy robot more)


	18. The Fetish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys don't like making this easy on me, do you? :P For the first poll Chara dominated it, very closely followed by Mettaton and then Undyne was also a close third. I hope this arrangement with all three of them works for you guys <3
> 
> For the second poll, you were all about that Sans/Reader moment, so here you go. That wound up being long enough (By my standards) to be it's own chapter, but I decided to include it here anyways.

“ ** _HEY!_** _LEAVE HER ALONE!_ ”

You’re surprised as Chara leaps to your defense, stepping in between you and your asshole ex and grabbing his sleeve when he clutches at you again. Drew also seems startled at the fourteen year-old getting involved. So much so he actually raises his hand to swat at her.

Chara doesn’t even flinch. Instead, from where you’ve stepped back and off to the side, you see the corner of her mouth rise in a devilish smile.

Drew gasps as a very strong fish catches his upraised arm, jerking it once and realizing her grip is too strong to break easily. “Is this man bothering you, Your Highness?” Undyne asks. There’s a lot of restrained anger in her voice.

“The _fuck?_ ” your ex spits. The expression crossing his face right now tells you that he knows his vague martial arts training isn’t going to help him here.

“I’m the Princess of All Monsters,” Chara boasts, her tone light and playful. “This here is my personal guard, Sergeant Undyne,” she casually introduces. “And _this_ ,” she gestures to you, grinning broadly. “Is my _friend_ you’re bothering.”

“_____ tell her to call off this crazy monster,” he demands uselessly.

“Naw,” you shrug. “I’m completely alright with this, actually.” And honestly, pretty flattered that they decided to step in, despite knowing _nothing_ about your situation with your ex. You make a note to tell them later. When your nerves calm down, that is. Just his presence alone makes your skin crawl.

“Who _is_ this guy, anyway?” Undyne asks.

“Her _boyfriend_ ,” Drew announces.

“ _Ex_ -boyfriend,” you swiftly correct. “I broke up with this asshole seven years ago.”

Chara’s shocked. “Seven _years!?_ ”

“Crazy, right? I guess he’s still trying to start shit whenever he sees me in public,” you sigh.

“Oh _my_. How _fascinating_.”

You look up to see a tall four-armed robot exiting the games store behind Drew, both him and Alphys carrying small shopping bags of their purchases. Mettaton’s looking down at your ex, who is still frozen in place and unable to break Undyne’s hold. The look on Drew’s face when he sees Mettaton makes you wonder whether he’s going to wet himself in the middle of the mall. Alphys stays back, adjusting her glasses and seemingly content to observe, while the robot strides over to absolutely tower over your ex. He takes Drew’s chin in one hand as he examines him, Undyne letting go of his arm now that someone taller and arguably scarier has him in his clutches.

“Who the fuck are _you?_ ” Drew stammers, his nervousness bleeding into his words.

“A famous _artist_ , naturally,” Mettaton claims, thin metal lips grinning widely, perhaps hungrily. “My my, I’ve gained _quite_ a lot of inspiration in the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you would care to take part in a new art endeavor of mine?” he asks creepily.

“Doing what exactly?” Drew narrows his eyes up at the robot.

“ _Well_ ,” Mettaton breathes, flicking his wiry metal hair with one of his available hands. “Since surfacing I have been short on volunteers for my show. Perhaps you would be interested? I think you would make an _excellent_ canvas.”

Undyne gasps and grabs your ex, easily dragging him away from the robot. Wait - was she trying to protect Andrew from _Mettaton?_ Oh god, what exactly did he mean by _canvas?!_

“Time to get lost, punk,” she sternly orders, shoving him a step or two ahead of her before letting him go. “Trust me, it’s for your own good,” she warns.

“You would do _well_ to listen to the mermaid, darling,” Mettaton adds, still grinning dangerously down at your ex. “Begone, before I have my way with you,” he adds dismissively.

Drew seems to want to say more, but Chara steps in front of you again. “You will _leave_. **_Right now_** ,” the monster princess orders.

He gets an odd look on his face, then turns on his heel and does exactly that. You tap Chara on the shoulder gently, and she turns and gives you a big smile. “Did you use magic on him to get him to leave?” you ask.

“… Maybe,” she laughs. “Is that a problem?”

“In this situation? Not really,” you sigh, relieved that it’s over. “In fact, I was starting to worry that I’d get to find out what Mettaton meant by all that.”

You look up at him and the robot grins broadly at you, utterly pleased with himself and his creepifying threats. You try and shake off the weird chill climbing up your spine at that.

“So,” you say nervously. “Uh, how about that pajama store?”

* * *

 

“Play me.”

“ **… what?** ”

You shove an XBOX game at the towering skeleton, his hand coming up to grab it and keep it from falling as you push past him into his apartment. He doesn’t move an inch to stop you, is merely surprised that you’ve randomly shown up like this.

“I have the night off, Paul’s at work, Amey’s asleep, Aunt Deb’s disappeared to parts unknown, and I’m on my period,” you explain bluntly, showing yourself to their kitchen and unloading a couple bags of chips and candy. “I need to work off some aggression, so I’ve decided we’re going to play DOA, alright?”

“ **the fuck?** ” he stammers, peeling the game away from his chest to look at the cover.

“Don’t you like video games?” you ask, wondering whether you’re off the mark here. Chara and Alphys seemed to think so.

He blinks his sockets as he studies you. “ **well, yeah? but-** “

“Then let’s fucking destroy each other already,” you grin.

* * *

 

Sans was _completely_ out of his element.

He was surprised when you’d asked if you could come over, and doubly flummoxed when the first thing you’d said coming in the door was ‘ _play me_.’ His mind _totally_ went somewhere else that _wasn’t_ video games when you’d said that. Wasn’t that sort of what he was trying to do, at the gross insistence of his dad?

Then again, he didn’t actually _mind_ so much; here you are, crazy hot human chick that you were, hanging out in his apartment with him. _Alone_.

You bite your lower lip tantalizingly as you clicked through the menus expertly on your controller, adjusting the game settings as his XBOX has never seen this Dead or Alive 3 game before. “How much jiggle factor do you want, or do you care?” you ask.

“ **what the fuck is jiggle factor?** ” he has to ask.

“… Oh my innocent flower,” you mock teasingly, pressing right on your controller. “We’re maxing it out then.”

“ **that doesn’t explain shit,** ” he points out.

“It’ll be _super_ obvious once we start fighting. Tag team, you down?”

“ **whatever,** ” he relents. A game where humans fight humans? This ought to be interesting.

Sans immediately picked the two bustiest female fighters he’d seen on the menu screen, which happened to be Tina and Kasumi, while you’d somehow picked alternate costumes for Hitomi and Ayane. As soon as the match begins and the fighters are introduced, Sans understands _exactly_ what ‘jiggle factor’ means.

… You saucy bitch.

“ **there’s seriously a fucking setting that makes their tits bounce more,** ” he states openly, struggling to keep up with your furious button mashing.

“Yup,” you chuckle happily, throwing a distracted Kasumi out of the ring. “Hey, don’t make this too easy on me,” you complain.

He grunts as he shifts his position, trying to keep his magic under control. He wasn’t sure yet if this was supposed to be some sort of flirting, but your eyes were fixated on the screen, not on him. He wonders if he should grab a pillow for his lap, just for safety.

In between rounds while waiting for the next map to load, he steals a glance at your own set of mammaries. Compared to the other chicks he knew, which basically consisted of Undyne, Alphys, and Toriel, yours were the most pleasant to look at. And it was a real treat for him today too – You’d worn that shitty cardigan again, but had unbuttoned it once you came inside, revealing your tank top and by consequence more of your skin than usual. His glance lasted a beat longer than he’d intended it to, but something else catches his notice and he tears his gaze away as he feels a hitch in his nonexistent throat.

On your feet weren’t the typically unsexy men’s wool socks that you usually wore for the winter cold. No, instead, you had something new on. These socks were pale pink, looked soft like silk, and had frilly lace cuffs. And something about the way you bobbed your feet and wiggled your toes as you gamed _bothered_ him intensely.

“ **what the fuck are those?** ” he demands, hoping you wouldn’t notice if he decides to grab that pillow.

“What the fuck are what?” you ask, confused. Sans nods his jaw towards your feet. “Ah, I believe these are called ‘socks’. You seem to be wearing a pair as well,” you highlight sarcastically.

“ **no, i mean, _shit_ ,**” he struggles, fighting the magic racing through his body as you continued to move and flex your covered feet. “ **where did you get _those_ ones? they’re not your normal shit grey ones.** ”

“I didn’t know you paid so much attention to my socks,” you chuckle. “Chara bought them for me when we went shopping. I wouldn’t let her put me in dresses, so we compromised on some socks at the pajama store. They’re stupid girly, but I like how comfy they are,” you shrug, looking at your toes as you wiggle them some more. “Why do you care, though?”

… That _fucking devil child_. He _knew_ Chara had to have had something to do with this. _Shit._

“Sans, are you alright? You seem really uncomfortable,” you notice. “Geez, how did your face get so _red?_ ”

He can’t handle this. He sets his controller down and curls inward, trying to cover his heated face with his hands and thankful for the pillow hiding his other noticeable magic surge, no longer caring if you figure out the reason why.

“Holy _shit_ , seriously are you okay? Wait…” you freeze. “Are you blushing??”

You figured it out. He was fucked.

“My socks are making you all hot and bothered,” you quickly deduce. “Do you have a sock fetish or something?”

He says nothing, just retreats further inward. If he looks at you right now he might just _pounce_ on you, and the _last_ thing he needs is to make this situation even more awkward. Sure he had the hots for you, _especially_ with this latest development, but judging by your reaction to his frustration you weren’t on the same page, and his father would _dust_ him if he scared you off.

He can’t see what you’re doing behind his palms, but feels your weight leave the couch and hears you walk back towards the front door. Shit, were you leaving? He spares a glance, then immediately regrets it as he catches a peek at you taking the silken socks _off_. Hiding his face again, he hears you return, then settle into the couch again. What did you do?

“They’re gone now. Sorry if my ugly feet smell, but, is this better?”

He spares another look, seeing that your feet are now bare. Your toenails were a little long, but he wouldn’t call them ugly. If anything they were kind of cute with how small they were compared to his.

“ **… better,** ” he admits.

“Let’s back out and turn the boobs into torpedoes too,” you say, cancelling the match and returning to the menus. “Actually,” you reconsider. “Should I leave? I didn’t mean to make things stupid awkward between us, sorry,” you apologize.

“ **no,** ” he protests immediately. “ **it’s whatever,** ” he mumbles, picking up the controller again.

“How long do you want to play for?”

“ **as long as you want. i could even order a pizza?** ” he suggests, grinning.

“… Did you just offer to buy me dinner again?” you scold. But there’s a sassy smile paired with it.

“ **well,** ” he chuckles. “ **ya can’t just tease me like that and expect me to not wanna do something about it, sweetheart,** ” he beams, waggling a brow bone flirtatiously at you.

He’s pleasantly surprised when you respond by giggling and nudge him. Good, he hasn’t scared you away. “One of these days, I may have to take you up on that offer,” you flirt back.

“ **whoa, _what?_** ” he balks, surprised.

“Well, I can’t keep avoiding it forever I guess,” you continue to tease. “I just can’t afford to buy food _every single time_ we hang out, you know? It’s bleeding my bank account dry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fanart for this chapter - Thank you @shrinkingcoyote!](http://shrinkingcoyote.tumblr.com/post/151222269397/what-are-those-lol-from-chapter-18-the)
> 
> Most Underfell characterizations of Mettaton are that he tortures people for others' entertainment, so I decided to keep that in. He WAS designed to be a killer robot, after all, so of _course_ he's going to be one creepy motherfucker :P
> 
> Also, is Reader teasing Sans? Oooooooo~
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER POLL: What do you want to see next?  
> A: A Gaster moment ;), or  
> B: Mettaton and Alphys moment (basically the one that we missed)?
> 
> Thank you for all of your wonderful comments as always, I love reading them all over and over again :)


	19. The Secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your Alphys/Mettaton moment voters :)

“I _want_ her.”

Alphys pauses in her search thumbing through her meticulously organized tool bench as she contemplates Mettaton’s meaning. When she couldn’t figure it out for herself, she sighed and decided to ask. “In what context?” she questions, resuming her search for the small torque screwdriver to remove his back panel. One of his arms was twitching, and Alphys took too much pride in her work to allow it to continue. “You _know_ the surface has rules against your ‘art’,” she sternly reminds him.

The robot smiled. “Don’t fret my dear Alphys, that isn’t what I had in mind,” he asserts gently. “I was thinking more along the lines of something… What is the word…” he hums, twirling one of his hands as he tries to find the proper term, while Alphys distractedly starts taking the screws out of his back. “Aha!” he brightens. “ _Romantic_.”

The lizard straightens, coming around the bench he’s seated on to face him. “You can’t be serious,” she admonishes him.

“She is quite _lovely_ , is she not?” he coos. “I think we would make _quite_ the pair,” he adds playfully.

“Forget it,” she orders. “She’s already spoken for.”

“A pity,” he frowns. “By whom?”

“Sans if you can actually believe it,” she scoffs, circling the bench again and removing the last two screws. She presses her thumbs against the bottom corners of the robot’s metal back plate and it pops off easily.

“… You’re not _serious?_ ” he presses his metal lips curiously as he feels his insides being poked and prodded. How he hated maintenance days.

“I see the problem – One of the bearings in the actuator has worn out,” the scaly scientist mentions distractedly. “A simple repair.”

“Did you avoid my question intentionally, or…?” He never could be too sure with Alphys.

“ _Yes_ , I’m serious. Sans is already trying to… Canoodle, seduce, _something_ with her,” she asserts once again, much to the robot’s surprise.

“Then… Are _they_ serious?”

“It seems to be too early to tell,” she sighs. “The Royal Scientist is _not_ very patient,” she adds derisively.

“How is the Royal Scientist involved, precisely?” Mettaton asks, creasing his metal brow in a curious expression. “It’s puzzling that you would even mention him in this context.”

“Lift your arm up for me?” she deflects, focused on her work. Mettaton sighs, raising the repaired arm as instructed. “… Not quite fixed. Set it back down then, I need to make one more adjustment.”

“Is it a secret?” he presses.

He barely acknowledges the lizard’s deft hands working to loosen and replace a corroded bolt and washer. It makes him uncomfortable, though he can’t claim any feeling of pain – his robotic body had always been lacking when it came to that particular sensation. That was why it fascinated him so much to inflict it, after all. How he _missed_ his show from the Underground - the criminals he tortured, all that creative _freedom_ … For him, the surface was _more_ stifling than the caverns.

“It’s none of your business,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I have proven my trust with your secrets before, darling,” he promises lightly. “After all, I never told _anyone_ about your feelings for Undyne… _Or_ for King Asgore.”

He’s shoved forward abruptly as he hears her hiss, and chuckles as he straightens again. The scientist continues to work irritatedly at him.

Surprisingly, she pauses. “… Do you want children?” she asks abruptly.

“… _Children?_ ” he asks. “That is a sudden, and _very_ personal question, my dear.”

“If you want to know what Gaster wants from the human, then answer it.”

“Hmmm,” he hums thoughtfully, bringing a working hand to his chiseled metal chin. “It’s not something I have ever considered before. May I ask _why_ you ask?”

“_____’s soul is red,” she tells him, tightening a new bolt and washer in place. “How is that now?”

He raises his arm and flexes his gloved fingers. “Better, I suppose.”

“Flawless?” she asserts.

“That would be fair to say,” he sighs. She always was finicky about receiving praise.

She quickly reattaches his back panel and carefully, but quickly, tightens the five screws back in place to secure it. Putting her screwdriver back into its proper place in the tool drawer behind him, she rounds the table and adjusts her glasses.

“This secret stays within these four walls, and is so far known _only_ to the Royal Scientist, Sans, and myself,” she begins authoritatively, puffing up proudly that she’s been privy to it all this time. “You _cannot_ repeat it to ANYONE, understood? Not even the Queen knows.”

“Not even your fiancée?” he murmurs, surprised. Her eyes narrow at him, and he holds both pairs of hands up in surrender. “Very well. Cross my soul, my lips will remain sealed on this matter.”

Alphys snorts at him, then she grins broadly. “Humans with red souls are mages, and females of the same _can have monster children_.”

Mettaton gasps daintily in slight shock, then a gloved hand goes to his chin while another tangles in his wiry hair, the remaining pair gripping the worktable’s edge for support. He hadn’t been expecting _that_.

“When Gaster met her, he saw an opportunity to restore our race to its former glory,” she continues gleefully, tenting her hands in front of her. “He’s verified that she wants children, so it’s only a matter of pairing her with a powerful male monster who wants the same. And since _Sans_ seems to have the strongest bond with her thus far, he’s elected him to… _Seduce_ her, or _whatever_ ,” she sniffs derisively. “But, as with everything, he’s _lazy_ and his process is unsatisfyingly _slow_.”

“… Your question makes _much_ more sense with context,” he notes. “So, if I were to pursue her…”

“You will _not_.”

“… I beg your pardon?”

“Sans is _already_ working on her.” She drops her hands and slides them into the pockets of her white lab coat.

“But you said that his methods were unsatisfactory?” he counters.

“It’s the same with _all_ work he’s ever been given,” she huffs. “But, he’s _already_ befriended her, now it’s hopefully just a matter of time, and I don’t want _any_ additional distractions, understood? Besides, you didn’t even answer my question.”

“It is merely something I have never considered before,” he defends. “Underground wasn’t exactly conducive to raising a _family_ , and I haven’t the faintest idea how anyone managed it in the first place.”

“We’re on the surface now, and wherever opportunity presents itself to strengthen our people, we _will_ seize it,” Alphys declares with a sneer, raising a hand and tightening it into a fist. “_____ is only the _first_ human mage we’ve found besides the Queen’s wards. If you want to assist, you could keep your eyes open for more.”

Mettaton was uncomfortable with these revelations, but he knew that, like anyone, no one could stand up to the Royal Scientist’s whims. Well, there was the Queen, but it was only her title that gave her that privilege – Everyone knew Gaster was the only tier five boss monster living, and the only surviving general from the war a thousand years ago. Still, the implications of finding human women to breed with was _very_ unsettling for him.

“I suppose I can do exactly that,” he says, hiding his displeasure at his own words. “For the good of monster kind, no?”

Alphys grins broadly, like a Cheshire cat. “For the good of monster kind,” she firmly agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No poll for next chapter, sorry - I started making a list of moments and things I need to include in this story before I forget them, similar to something I did with original Not Your Doll, and doing so has told me that I need to work on plot for a little bit. Not sure when the next poll will be, but they're going to get scarcer, unless it's something minor that doesn't affect the story as a whole (Although there _will_ be a couple more of those yet to come).
> 
> Also, for those of you that wanted more Badster, stay tuned :) The thing I had in mind would have, I realized as I was doing my outline, spoiled things a little prematurely again, so it actually works a lot better later in the story. It'll be good, I promise. Thank you guys, as always, for your wonderful comments, kudos, and votes. They fill me with determination :D


	20. The Dessert.

“ **hey sweetheart, wanna hang out after this?** ”

“Showing up at my work again, Sans?” you sigh. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“ **not really.** ” He picks up one of the Easter Egg painting kits sitting by the register to look at. “ **isn’t it a little early for this shit?** ” he points out.

“Seasonal stuff always comes in early,” you shrug. “It can’t all stay in the back while we wait for the actual holiday to roll around though, plus some people like buying ahead anyways, so it goes out on the floor as soon as we get it,” you add. “Were you looking for anything in particular, or are you just here to bug me again?”

“ **just here to bother ya. why do humans have a holiday about painting chickens eggs, anyways?** ” he asks.

In attempting to set the box back down, he accidently knocks over another precariously standing box of egg dyes and stickers, and it collides into the rest like dominoes. He has a guilty look as he picks up the first box again, setting it on the narrow end like he’d meant to in the first place, and then shoves his hands in his pockets before he can do any further damage. You sigh and roll your eyes as you start picking up the small mess he’s made, aware of his one red eye watching you intently.

“Like most holidays, it had a totally different start to it – I don’t _exactly_ know how it turned into chocolates and painting eggs, but it was actually a bible story at first,” you explain. “The Internet could tell you about it better than I can.”

“ **humans celebrate some weird shit,** ” he muses.

“Have you experienced Hallowe’en yet?” you ask.

“ **yeah. frisk and chara got real excited about it last year, and tori dumped them on me to go beg for candy at people’s houses and shit.** ”

“Aww, you took them trick or treating?” That’s adorable. “Did you dress up?”

“ **sure did.** ”

“As what?”

“ **myself,** ” he rolls his shoulders, grinning.

You look over the seven-foot tall skeleton monster, then let out a short snorting laugh. “I guess that works. You _know_ , the reason kids dress up is to scare _away_ monsters and demons, right? That’s part of the tradition.”

“ **well, _clearly_ it doesn’t work,** ” he chuckles. “ **so you didn’t answer me – what are you doing after work?** ”

“Going home to sleep was the plan,” you shrug.

“ **lame,** ” he groans. “ **come hang out with me instead.** ”

“And do what?” you ask, suspicious of the skeleton’s motives.

“ **i wanna talk about stuff.** ”

“ _What_ stuff?” Sans wants to talk?

“ ** _shit,_ sweetheart -** **why’s everything got to be a fight with you?** ” he grumbles. “ **i just wanna make sure you’re alright, alright?** ”

You blink at that, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?” He was concerned about you?

“ **chara said some shit went down at the mall,** ” he admits. “ **i want to find out more about this asshole who’s apparently stalking you and taking swings at little girls,** ” he adds, his voice low and practically _growling_ the words.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Uh, I don’t really want to get into it.”

“ ** _i_ do,** ” he rumbles. “ **come over tonight, let’s talk.** ”

* * *

 

“ **i offered to get food, you know.** ”

You close one set of cupboard doors and open another pair. “If we went somewhere to eat I’d feel obligated to pay again, and it’s really starting to hurt my bank account to keep doing that.” The boys’ place was well-stocked with fancy baking ingredients, and you slightly wonder how rich they must be to afford all this crap. But they didn’t have anything pre-made or dessert-like – No cookies, sweet breads, or anything like that. There was a half-empty bag of candy, but Sans had already warned you away from touching it.

“ **are you really that bothered by that stupid joke i made?** ” Sans growls.

“Not really, actually? But, it’s kind of become our _thing_ now, so I feel obligated to keep it going,” you tease. “Besides, I don’t like people buying stuff for me anyways, remember?” you clarify. “Call it a mental defect.”

“ **why do you need sweets again, sweetheart?** ”

“If we’re going to talk about my stupid baggage with Drew, I need something sugary to settle my nerves.” Something chocolate would be ideal, but you couldn’t even find a bag of chocolate chips anywhere.

“ **well, dessert ain’t dinner. i _still_ could’ve gotten you something,** ” he grumbles.

You flash a smile at the sweet skeleton, quietly thankful that he’d considered it. But, since the cupboards seem to be a bust, you decide to open the fridge. The moment you do, it feels like there should be a choir of angels loudly singing the praises of the delectable item you’ve suddenly laid eyes on.

“What is _that!?_ ” you ask, mouth watering in a Pavlovian response.

“ **that’s also off-limits.** ”

“Says who?”

“ **says the _boss_.** ”

You can’t let _that_ go, though. It’s like you’ve stumbled across the _holy grail_ of _chocolate_.

“I’m taking some,” you announce, determined.

“ **what!?** **i just said- sweetheart, i am going to get into _so much shit-_** ”

“Blame it on me, then.”

“ **okay, _no_. there’s _no way_ i can do that.** ”

“Why not? I’m not afraid of your brother, and I know monsters can’t fight humans anyway,” you grin, carefully sliding the small cake board out of the fridge.

“ **that _ain’t_ papyrus’-** “

“Your _other_ brother, Gaster?” you roll your eyes as you clarify, grabbing cutlery from the drawer and then searching for the small dessert plates. The tallest of the skeletons seemed like the type to enjoy fancy foods and fine wines anyway.

Sans sputters and makes a couple of wheezing, whimpering sounds, before he can conjure up a response at your audacity of having a tiny piece of cake. Finally, he speaks. “ **gaster ain’t my brother,** ” he calmly asserts.

You pause after setting the plates on the counter. “Cousin?” you ask.

Sans shakes his head. “ **he’s, uh, our _dad_.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh :o Reader's unapologetically jacking Gaster's cake. Wonder how this will turn out :D
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER POLL because I'm a filthy liar and I thought of a poll anyways despite warnings to the contrary:  
> Q1: When does Gast find out about his cake?  
> A: He finds out later, or  
> B: He comes home at the end of the scene to see them eating it?
> 
> Q2: IS IT ALCOHOLIC!?  
> A: Yes.  
> B: Yes!


	21. The Cake.

“How the hell is he your _dad?_ God, I thought he was like _thirty_ or something?!”

Sans cackles loudly as he stabs at his small slice of the defiled cake, the rest of it sitting between the two of you at the dining room table. It had a liquid chocolate lava center that tasted of rich raspberries as well, and _also_ had a bit of a kick to it. After warming it up in the oven, it was _beyond_ divine. You wonder where on earth the Royal Scientist had found it.

“ **monsters don’t exactly celebrate birthdays like humans do, but he’s _way_ beyond thirty,** ” he chuckles. “ **i think he said he stopped counting once he hit a thousand.** ”

You nearly choke on your next nibble of cake. “TH- **THOUSAND!?** ”

Sans grins, enjoying the expression you’re making. “ **yup. he’s been around for a very long time.** ”

“Holy _SHIT!_ Is that, like, normal for monsters?” Wow, this cake had some _serious_ kick to it. How did whoever made it make it so _strong?_

“ **just for boss monsters,** ” Sans shrugs. He doesn’t seem half as buzzed as you are right now. You narrow your eyes at the unfairness of it. “ **under certain circumstances they can live forever.** ”

“Oh my _god_ ,” you chortle. “Gaster’s your dad and he’s over a thousand years old. Did you know he hit on me?” That seems super goddamn weird to you right now.

The skeleton’s smile becomes tighter, more restrained. “ **he might’ve said something about it,** ” he says sharply, popping another small bite of the delicious dessert into his maw.

“It seems super creepy to think about now,” you confess. “I mean, I didn’t really think of him that way in the first place? But, I’m pretty sure a thousand plus years is _way_ out of my range.” You hum at a thought. “How old are _you_ , _really?_ Because I thought you were about _my_ age, but now I’m not so sure.”

“ **about twenty-five.** ” His grin widens and he crooks a brow bone at you. “ **something on your mind, sweetheart?** ” he teases.

“ _Jackass_ ,” you sputter, gently shoving him. He chuckles at that.

“ **we’re way off topic,** ” he points out. “ **you were going to tell me about this drew asshole.** ”

“Auuughhh,” you groan. “Do I _have_ to?”

He abruptly slides the small cake board with the rest of the heavenly dessert away from you. You clamor after it, but he holds out a hand to stop you, ribs shaking with a restrained laugh.

“ _FINE_ ,” you hiss, dropping back down into your chair. “Ugh… Drew was my boyfriend for a couple years in highschool,” you explain. “I completely regret it. It totally sucked _balls_.”

“ **what happened?** ” he interrogates.

“There wasn’t, like, _one thing_ that happened? It was a lot of _little_ things he did and said that made me feel like I was his _property_ , or something,” you begin to explain. “And he only ever was like that when it was just me and him – he’d _never_ be nasty to me in front of other people, so they all thought we were the perfect couple or something, and started idealizing us. I tried to complain about it, about what he was _really like_ , but he’d spin it around like I was only saying bad stuff about him to _hurt_ him, and I got no support from anyone.”

“ **that’s fucked up,** ” he growls. “ **what kinds of shit did he say to you?** ”

“It was all manipulative bullshit,” you continue. “I don’t even remember anything specific, just how it made me feel – like, I would try to do something on my own, and he’d make me feel really bad for excluding him, some really minor thing… Or, if I wanted attention, he’d like, try and make me beg for it? He was determined to make sure I didn’t have an equal part in the relationship, and that I’d be subservient and at his beck and call. He didn’t _want_ a partner in me, he wanted someone he could _toy_ with instead.”

You startle slightly as you acknowledge the grinding noise coming from your skeletal bud. His shark teeth are fully bared and that familiar red ring of colour in his left eye is missing, leaving both of his sockets black as pitch.

“Sans? Are you okay?” you ask, concerned. It might be a little scary if you didn’t know him well, _and_ if you weren’t already sort of blitzed from the cake.

He blinks and seems to rouse himself out of whatever trance he was mired in, his red ring for an eye reappearing and focusing on you. “ **fine,** ” he says curtly. “ **anything _else_ i should kick this guy’s ass for?** ”

“You will do _no such thing_ ,” you drunkenly scold, waggling your fork at him. “But it’s cute that you’re protective of me in retrospect,” you admit openly.

“ **wasn’t going for ‘cute’,** ” he smirks. “ **keep going, sweetheart. i feel like there’s more shit you haven’t said yet.** ”

“Uhh, I guess?” you shrug, chasing some of the chocolate liquor filling with a morsel of spongy cake. “Well, you must’ve noticed by now that I don’t really have any human friends, right?” Sans seems slightly surprised by that, but nods in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that’s because when I did break up with him that last time, he trashed me to everyone in town – mutual friends, my friends, everyone, in order to keep me isolated. And,” you add. “Thanks to his stalking, every time I try to connect with someone new, like a new friend or a boyfriend, he does everything he can to scare them off. I think he thinks if I’m socially isolated I’ll come running back to him or something,” you cringe.

“ **that fucking _prick._** ”

You look up at Sans in surprise, then sigh. “Why do you think I want to hang out with monsters so much? I mean, I’m pretty sure he can’t scare you guys off, right? I have no one else.”

“ **sweetheart, i-** “

He freezes as you both hear a key in the lock of the front door, a very tall skeleton entering a moment afterwards. Gaster closes the door behind him and starts taking off of his shoes, when he looks up to see the both of you, his gentle white eye lights flicking between you, Sans, and the remains of the cake.

“ **uhh,** ” Sans stammers guiltily, all machismo bleeding out of him as little red sweat droplets start forming on his skull.

“Gaster!” you call out cheerily, launching from your seat. Time to do some damage control. You stumble a step on your way through the kitchen, but manage to regain your balance by the time you make it over to him. You’ve got this.

“ **Hello _____, I was not expecting to see you here tonight,** ” the lanky dork greets, smiling softly.

“We ate your fancy cake,” you stumble out inelegantly. “It was my fault, one hundred percent, ‘m sorry. Where did you, uh, get it? I want to replace it for you,” you offer. And, maybe buy five more for yourself.

“ **Aha,** ” he breathes. His sockets crease around his nasal bone like he _wants_ to be upset about it, but after a beat or two of tense silence, he takes a deep breath. “ **That was a sample from a good friend of mine, in fact. He wanted me to review it for his new menu he is working on - he plans to re-open his restaurant on the surface, and has to re-work many of his culinary masterpieces.** ”

“Oh, shit! I’m _really_ sorry,” you fluster, clenching your hands against each other anxiously. You had no idea it was a gift from a friend. How shitty of a person _are_ you to take something sentimental like that?

“ **Think nothing of it, my dear,** ” he dismisses kindly. His large, long hands gently unwrap your hands from each other. “ **It was merely a dessert, and I am sure I can simply ask him for another.** ”

“Well, uh, can you tell your friend that it was really kind of amazing? If, uh, a bit strong,” you add, looking down at his hands still holding yours. Was he flirting again? You decide to pull away and shove them in your pockets. Gaster seems to frown at the loss. “He might have some problems with his customers if half of a small cake can get them hammered. And the liquor control board or the CFIA, maybe,” you blabber on.

“ **I will be sure to pass on the review,** ” he beams down at you. “ **You seem unwell, were you planning on leaving soon? It is getting rather late.** ”

“Oh, right.” It’s probably past eleven now, you realize. “Sans and I were just hanging out, but I guess I ought to head for home.”

“ **May I suggest that you spend the night here, instead?** ” he offers, gentlemanly voice soft and concerned.

“I’m not far, I think I can stumble my way home okay,” you refuse automatically.

“ **I would feel more comfortable if you did not make the attempt,** ” he presses. “ **Your state concerns me greatly, and I would be beside myself with worry that some nighttime hooligan may try to take advantage of you.** ”

Remembering the _last_ time you’d slept on their couch, you decide that spending the night in an apartment with two flirty skeleton guys while drunk is probably a worse move. You shake your head resolutely. “No thank you,” you say firmly.

“ **But, my dear-** “

You turn away from him as he continues to try and talk you into staying to look over at the other suspiciously quiet skeleton. “Hey Sans, want to walk me home?”

“ **… alright,** ” Sans agrees, standing up from his chair.

“That oughta take care of any nighttime ‘hooligans’, right Gaster?” you turn back to the Royal Scientist and beam.

He seems mildly put out that you didn’t give in to his pushy concern, but instead he chuckles charmingly at your stubborn perseverance. You grin and start sliding into your boots as Sans comes over to get his coat.

* * *

 

“He didn’t seem too mad in the end,” you shrug against the cold. March is right around the corner, which could mean an early thaw and rain, or another month of bitter cold that lasts until April. “Besides, I _knew_ if I took all the responsibility he’d be cool about it. Told you he likes me,” you smirk mischievously.

Sans seems to be off in a trance again. You stumble a step closer to bump into his side in a lazy nudge to snap him out of it. He startles slightly and looks down at you, then smiles.

“ **he’s not typically the most forgiving of monsters,** ” Sans admits cautiously.

“Well, _something_ about me seems to warm the cackles of his thousand year-old heart,” you beam up at him. “I should take advantage of that more often,” you scheme.

“ **you should definitely come over more,** ” he agrees giddily.

“This is me,” you announce, hopping up onto the front step of your aunt’s house playfully and turning to face him.

“ **alright. night _____,** ” he dismisses, starting to turn away.

“ _Hey!_ ” you whine. “Where’s my hug?” you demand, closing your fists and resting them on your hips.

“ **oh.** ” He seems pleasantly surprised. “ **thought you didn’t like the one i gave you on valentines, valentine,** ” he grins.

“Only because you grabbed my butt!” you scold. “Hugs are okay any time, but you need to ask me for permission before doing stuff like _that_ ,” you attempt to clarify.

“ **alright, alright. give me a hug then, sweetheart.** ”

He grins, pulling his large hands out of his pockets to open them for you. You squeak in drunken delight, then fall into the massive skeleton’s arms in an warm embrace. You barely resist the temptation to nuzzle the fur lining of his open coat, and his warmth is _super_ nice right now against this cold. For a big bad skeleton, he was very cuddly and gave _great_ hugs.

“ **permission to grab ass?** ”

Of course, Sans would still be Sans, and you groan against his chest in response. “NO,” you bark into his shirt. He chuckles at that, one of his hands sliding down to give your butt a squeeze. You smack a hand against his mirthfully shaking ribs in protest. “SANS _WHY?_ ”

“ **you said i had to ask first,** ” he rasps over your head. “ **you didn’t say you had to _agree_ to it.** ”

“Pervert!” you shove away from him.

He has the goofiest smile you’ve ever seen on his otherwise menacing face, and it actually makes you want to laugh with him. Or maybe that’s the alcohol. Either way, it’s weirdly adorable.

“ **alright,** ” he says, composing himself. “ **night again, sweetcheeks,** ” he winks. He then turns away and starts walking down the street.

“Ffft,” you snort. “Hey, hold up! One more thing,” you plead.

He stops and turns. “ **yeah?** ”

You scamper over to him and pull on the neck of his shirt while trying to stand on your toes. He gets the hint and leans down for you, and you plant a small friendly peck on his cheek. His smile freezes as his sockets widen in surprise.

“For a big bad skeleton monster, you’re actually kind of a big _sweetie_ ,” you announce, proud of the flustered look on his face. “Thanks for being an awesome friend to me tonight,” you add.

Despite himself, his cheekbones start flushing red at the compliment. He seems to shiver slightly as he tries to compose himself. “ **don’t go spreading that shit around, sweetheart. you’ll ruin my street cred,** ” he smirks.

“I won’t,” you promise, crossing your heart.

With that, he heads off into the night while you fumble with your keys to unlock your door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [That's a cake worth dying for right there. Thanks @shrinkingcoyote!](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/151116526555/shrinkingcoyote-thank-a-week-of-insomnia-and)   
>  [SANS GETS A SMOOCH - Thanks again @shrinkingcoyote!](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/150606888870/shrinkingcoyote-so-this-happened-todaythanks)
> 
>  
> 
> When I woke up at 4am, as is my custom, I couldn't get this out of my head so I had to write it. Way too fun to write. Sansy got himself a kiss :)
> 
> A line that I had in mind but that didn't make it in:
> 
> " _No drunk when you're teleporting!_ " you demand. Then pause. "Wait, _shit_. I think I messed that up, let me try that again."


	22. The Talk.

Sans wasn’t completely sure why he was still smiling. His face was actually starting to _hurt_ from the ear-to-ear grin he had kept since the moment he sauntered away from you.

Despite himself, he really enjoyed your company. Your arguments, your playful banter back and forth, and your firecracker personality had him under a spell. Also your scent, the feeling of your feathery hair brushing against his hard bones, your small, warm, squishy body pressed against his… He involuntarily shuddered for a reason that had nothing to do with the late February cold. There was just _something_ about you that made him… Comfortable. It was a feeling he hadn’t identified with for a long, _long_ time.

No monster nor human had _ever_ made him feel this way before. Why were you so different? Was it really just because you’re a mage? A powerful one at that, your soul being as bright as it was. He wondered idly what your ability would be.

His mood finally soured when his thoughts turned to the boss, and how the reason he had started trying to get your attention in the _first_ place was for that fucking ‘sustainable genealogy _whatever_ ’ project Gaster wanted to push forward. It was the only reason why he was trying so hard to get closer to you.

Well, Gaster’s project wasn’t the _only_ reason he was trying. Not anymore.

This ‘friends’ stage was frustrating him, though, but he also felt conflicted about trying to push for something more. He _wanted_ you, in a very carnal, _passionate_ way - his body _ached_ with a need to satisfy his lust. But what could he do? If he actually got you into bed with him, could he really do that to you? His mind was at war – one side _demanding_ that he act on his desires, and the other surprisingly _protective_ of you, from _him_.

He was a formidable skeleton boss monster with a _hell_ of a crush on a tiny, _weak_ human girl. He couldn’t think of a bigger joke than _that_.

… Maybe he had to tell you how you made him feel. Maybe _that_ _’s_ what he needed to do to draw you closer to him.

… But would you believe him?

* * *

 

“Cake?”

You usher Undyne and Alphys ahead of you into the quaint little café. The gasps from the other patrons from the sight of the monsters entering were unnecessary, you feel, but you do your best to ignore them. “Come on, come on!” you cheer giddily, circling around the pair as you start to take off your gloves. “They’ve got some pretty mouthwatering-looking stuff in the display here!”

“Is the consumption of sugary desserts a requirement for ‘girl talk’?” Alphys inquires softly, noting the various customers that have started picking up their things to make a quick exit.

“Damn right it is,” you announce proudly, pulling on her arm towards the counter. You’d try that with Undyne, but are sure that you probably can’t move the Sergeant as easily. The small scientist flusters as she surrenders to follow you, with Undyne not far behind.

“Cake isn’t exactly _healthy_ , nerd,” Undyne scolds you, now standing at the counter as she eyes the confections.

“Nothing good or worth enjoying in life is _healthy_ ,” you sass back.

You manage to talk the pair of them into selecting slices of cake for themselves – Strawberry shortcake for the shortcake, and a plain slice of cheesecake for the fish - selecting a slice of a chocolate and strawberry-topped torte for yourself. The cashier regards you suspiciously, but doesn’t put up any fuss when you pay for all three of you. Turning back towards the seating area, you find that you have a lot of selection for where to sit, as the place has emptied while your back was turned. You sigh at that.

“Something wrong?” Undyne says, tapping your shoulder as gently as she can manage.

“Nothing - I’m good. How about you two?” you ask, wearing a smile for their sakes. They give non-committal answers before you shrug and lead the way to a booth.

“So,” Alphys begins after sliding into her seat across from you. “What is the itinerary for today’s ‘girl talk’?”

“First thing’s first: Somebody’s _got_ to explain to me how that giant pearl ring ended up on Undyne’s finger,” you assert. “Don’t think I didn’t notice it when we played laser tag the other day.”

“Laser tag?” Alphys asks curiously, turning to her mermaid girlfriend.

Undyne shrugs. “I asked if _____ knew of any realistic human combat simulations. It was alright,” she smiles.

“It was either that or airsoft, and lasers were cheaper to be honest,” you grimace. “Undyne got the top score, of course.”

“Of _course_ ,” she repeats, grinning toothily.

“Well? Is someone going to explain the ring or what?” you huff impatiently.

Undyne’s thin pursed lips twist upwards in a faint smile, draping a muscled arm around the shoulders of the lizard scientist. “Alphys proposed to me on the fourteenth,” she explains.

Alphys adjusts her glasses as she throws Undyne a heated look, smirking proudly. “Now that we are on the surface, I would like to partake in some human traditions, and I can think of no better match for myself than Undyne,” she coos.

With how much Alphys likes to overanalyze, you can’t help but wonder if she’s trying to sincerely compliment her fiancée. But the news that they’re getting married is awesome and kind of adorable, so you make a shrill squeal in delight.

The sound you make actually seems to startle them. “You alright nerd?” Undyne asks warily.

“Awesome,” you announce happily. “That’s so cool that you guys are getting _married!_ Have you made any plans yet?”

“Not so far,” Alphys answers decisively. “But we have _plenty_ of time for that later.”

“Hey, since we’re here for girl talk, can I ask you something _____?” Undyne presses.

“Sure, what’s up?” you agree, taking a big bite of torte. Oh, it’s divine.

“What’s the story with you and Sans?”

Your eyebrows knit together at that. “There’s no story, we’re just buds,” you reply.

Neither of them seem to be satisfied with your answer. Your shoulders sag, defeated.

“Okay, I’m not stupid – I _know_ that he likes me, or something,” you say. “I’m just… There are a couple of problems with that for me,” you admit.

“What manner of problems?” Alphys asks brightly.

“First problem – and I don’t mean any offense – but he _is_ a monster,” you declare. “ And I don’t know how inter-species relationships are supposed to really _work?_ Nevermind all of the public backlash if word got out. And second is, even if I _was_ open to that? He clearly wants only _one thing_ , and I’m just not interested in that type of relationship.”

“I see,” she muses, thoughtfully tapping a claw against her golden scaly chin. “So Sans is romantically ineligible for you for these reasons?”

You blink at the awkward question. “Well,” you hum. “ _Shit_ , I don’t know.”

He _was_ kind of a big sweetie from time to time – bringing you chocolate bars for Valentines and talking wistfully about the stars. He’d even shared a very alcoholic cake with you to get you talking about your ex, and then made sure your drunk ass got home okay. But, you just couldn’t see yourself dating a giant skeletal _molester_ like Sans. He wasn’t exactly ‘life partner’ material.

“He’s a _bud_ ,” you answer indecisively. “I don’t really see myself getting together with him,” you add.

“What qualities _do_ you look for in a significant other, then?” the scientist continues her interrogation.

“Hmm. Well,” you begin. “I want someone that treats me like a partner – an _equal_. Someone I could… Maybe start a family with someday?”

“Seems fair,” Undyne nods in agreement, taking a cautious bite of her cheesecake.

“Well, if _Sans_ doesn’t suit your requirements, then what about Dr. Gaster?”

Your quick reflexes surprise everyone as you _just_ manage to dodge the spit-take that Undyne has at the mention of the Royal Scientist. Why was Alphys bringing him up, anyway? Is she shipping you with monsters or something?

“ _Excuse me_ ,” Undyne pardons herself, sliding out of the end of the booth hastily and disappearing for parts unknown.

“Gaster’s ineligible,” you assert flatly. “He’s still a monster, plus I heard he’s over a _thousand years old_. That’s kind of out of my range.”

“Oh! Well, I suppose that’s true,” the remaining scaly monster shrugs. “My apologies, monsters do not think about age disparity in relationships, as humans do. There aren’t… A lot of us _left_ , after all,” she trails off, glancing elsewhere for a second. “As was unnecessary for survival, we did away with such notions. So, as long as a pair are both of adult age, we don’t discriminate.”

“Makes sense,” you wither. “Uhm, sorry for my silly human notions,” you apologize reflexively.

“If age disparity _weren_ _’t_ an issue, would you _consider_ an older monster such as Dr. Gaster?” she presses. This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you’d invited them out for girl talk.

Feeling awkward at the continuing question and answer session, Alphys’ eyes peering at you hopefully from behind those bottle-thick lenses, you fold your arms across yourself protectively. “I guess, he’s _nice?_ Nicer than I expected, actually. I’m not really interested in him _either_ , but… _Sure_ , he’s alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alphys wtf are you doing -_-; She's an overly analytical, reclusive crazy scientist that one.
> 
> There's a confession coming in about 2-3 chapters!! I can't say for sure because I'm not 100% certain how the one after next will go exactly, but it's soon. Stay tuned :)
> 
> In hindsight, this chapter feels really awkward. I may go back and edit it after some sleep x.x


	23. The Skeleton.

As you try to leave the classroom after the longest lecture _ever_ , your classmates ahead of you stop and clog the doorway. They’re gawking at something. “Uh, hello?” you call for their attention. “Make room, please!”

You push through the crowd and your eyes rest on what will undoubtedly be the latest hot gossip in the small college. Sans.

Why was he waiting out here? You’re not sure he knows any humans besides yourself – well, and the queen’s kids, of course. He looks like he’s become one with the couch in the student lobby already, completely sunken into the cushions while his massive round head has lolled against the short back of it. He perks up when he sees you trying to emerge from the huddled mass of nerd.

“ **about fucking time,** ” he groans boredly. **“how long are your classes anyways?** ”

“Four hours or so?” you shrug casually. “Sans, why are you-?”

A hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back. You nearly jump out of your skin in response.

“What the hell are you _doing!?_ ” A guy from your class scolds you. Devon? His green eyes scowl down at you.

“ _Let go of me_ ,” you order tersely, trying to pull away from his grip, but it’s too strong. Wait, wasn’t he also a black belt at something? _Shit._

“Listen, _monster_ ,” he addresses Sans dangerously. “You need to leave. _Now_.”

“ **heh,** ” Sans chuckles as he slowly stands from the sofa. Some of the other guys crowd in front of you again. The massive skeleton straightens and slides his hands into his pockets, red ring on the group like a search light. “ **you** **’re protecting the wrong person here,** ” he suggests matter-of-factly.

What? Are they trying to protect you? From _Sans?_

“Let me _GO_ I _swear_ to _god!_ ” you hiss at your captor.

You drop your bag and punch at whatever-his-name-is’ hand holding your arm with your other one, and stumble away from him after a couple strikes when he finally gets the hint and lets go. More hands from your classmates grab at you, but you swat them off as you scoop up your book bag to emerge from the crowd in front of Sans. Turning to stand in defense of him, you’re slightly annoyed when he decides to rest his massive hands on your shoulders, already _done_ with so many people clutching at you in the past minute or so, but decide to just let him since he’s the one you’re defending here. Your wrist is slightly sore from trying to wrench it out of that asshole’s firm grip, and you rub at it absently.

Whatever black belt asshole’s name is, he comes to the front of the group, face twisted in anger… _Maybe_ concern, too? “_____,” he says, voice cracking. “What are you doing with a _monster?_ ”

“Sans is, for lack of a better word, my _friend_ ,” you announce, throwing your arm out to the side defiantly. “And you _assholes_ had better leave him the _fuck_ alone!”

“Friend?” he repeats, surprised, then shakes his head dismissively. “They killed kids, _____,” he tries to reason, and the tone he takes makes your blood boil, like he’s talking to a _child_. “I don’t know what they told you, but-“

“ _ONE_ monster killed kids,” you correct him swiftly. “And the single guilty party is already doing his time in jail. You don’t _get_ to vilify their entire species for the actions of _one_ , you fucking racist _asshole._ ”

Douchebag with a name that starts with D seems stunned, both at the insult and at your comfort in physical proximity with a monster, while the rest of the guys aren’t bold enough to press. Lifting and swinging your backpack onto your shoulder after a brief stare down, you look up at Sans and jerk your head towards the exit door. “Let’s just fucking _go_ already.”

After sliding his massive arm around your shoulders to hold you protectively, he offers his other hand where you can see it. “ **want me to get your bag?** ” his voice rasps suggests genially.

You snort at that. “Wouldn’t that hurt your macho image to carry a girl’s things?” you joke, looking up at him with a smile cracked. “Why’d you show up at my school, anyways? That was probably a _really_ bad move. They seem to think you’re going to eat me or something,” you add.

“ **not without permission, sweetheart** ” he smirks lewdly down at you as he winks his empty socket.

“ _Ass_ ,” you chuckle back, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “Seriously though – why’d you come here?” Actually, did you ever tell him or the others where you go to school? How did he know where to find you in the first place?

“ **frisk would have my teeth for a necklace if i didn** **’t come today,** ” he claims. “ **kid was really insistent.** ”

Frisk? “But… _Why?_ ” you ask, confused. Wait, did it have something to do with their magic?

“ **i guess because of him,** ” he gestures with his chin ahead of you, arm dropping from your shoulders.

It’s your ex.

You grab the open side of Sans’ jacket and attempt to steer him the other direction. You can use a different set of stairs to get to the bus station today.

“Are you ever going to talk to me again!?” he calls out. Just the sound of his voice makes your blood boil.

No, no you’re not. There’s nothing left to say. It’s not like he would listen to it anyway – he’s too wrapped up in his own narrative about ‘destiny’ to ever listen to a differing opinion. Of which you had plenty.

“You can’t keep walking away from me forever, ____!” he shouts angrily at your backs, but from no further away. Great. He’s following you.

Sans stops and easily raises his arm to free himself for your grip, turning to face him. No, damnit!

The large skeleton positions himself in between you and your creepy ex, his knuckles popping loudly as he cracks them. Sans smirks down dangerously at the offending human. “ **man, you have no idea how much i** **’ve been wanting to kick _your_ ass.** ”

Damnit Sans, do not engage! You curse him for letting himself fall into the trap. Now he’s involved.

“… Who, or _what_ , the fuck are _you?_ ” Drew bravely sneers, then he moves to lock his eyes with yours and it makes your skin crawl. “Is this your new ‘boyfriend’? I didn’t take you for a monster fucker, ____!”

Time figuratively stops. You’re not going to lie down and take that this time. Not when it’s directed at Sans. Not when it’s directed at any of your new friends. They’ve all been so cool and welcoming (Well, after some initial hesitation), and it’s the first time in a long time that you’ve felt included in anything. You will not have it. You’ve got to stand up for them and protect them. You will never allow them to be hurt, not so long as you can stop it.

You turn on your heel, heart pounding, and full of determination.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME DREW!?” you scream at your ex. “HE IS A **_SKELETON!_** WHAT IS THERE TO **FUCK**!?”

Drew is stunned. You move around the skeleton to get between the both of them, grabbing roughly at the front of Sans’ stained t-shirt and pull it up. Sans’ brow bones rise in surprise, but he says nothing, interested in finding out where you’re going with this.

“SEE!? THERE IS NOTHING!” You wave your hand through the space where organs would be on a human, but instead there’s just open air bordered by hip bones, ribs and spine. “THERE IS NOTHING HERE, YOU COMPLETE FUCKING **_MORON!_ FUCK!**”

Drew is summarily defeated. He turns and leaves to slink away to whatever hole from whence he came. You let go of Sans’ shirt only to flip off Drew’s back with both hands.

“ASSHOLE!” you shout one final time.

Your head is pounding, your face and throat hurt. Your cheeks feel hotter than the surface of the sun. You feel people’s eyes on you from every angle.

“ **you know** **…** ” Sans begins, unable to hide the mirth in his deep voice. “ **if you wanted to know what i** **’m packing, all you had to do was _ask_ ,**” he says, his brow bones waggling down at you and his bony face smiling so broadly you can see all of his teeth.

His blunt suggestiveness makes you chuckle weakly through your trauma, though you still have to sit down on a nearby bench as you process it all.

“ **you okay, ____?** ” Sans asks, taking the seat right next to you.

“A little frazzled, I guess,” you sigh, burying your face in your hands. “Sorry you had to see that side of me. I feel like I just reverted to my angry teenage self,” you mumble through your fingers

“ **tch, don** **’t apologize for that shit,** ” he scolds you.

“Why not?” you ask, pulling your hands from your face and looking up at him.

“ **it** **’s just more evidence that you** **’re the toughest bitch i know,** ” he grins. “ **you had that guy running scared, i didn** **’t even need to do shit.** ”

“Toughest bitch, huh?” you hum, not totally opposed to the compliment.

“ **you off to work after this?** ”

“Yeah. Party store tonight.”

“ **call in sick or something,** ” he orders unexpectedly. “ **come on, blow it off for once and let me take you to dinner.** ”

“Dinner?” you question as he feigns an innocent look. “No chance, buddy. I’ll call in, but after today I only just want to go home. Besides,” you add. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if people think we’re dating.”

“ **i don** **’t give a _fuck_ what people think,** ” he curses. “ **and you shouldn** **’t either. they don** **’t matter at all.** ”

“It _matters_ because it means people might come after you and other monsters just by associating with me,” you point out. “I know you guys are all tough and scary and stuff, but I can’t see this ending well for you. Maybe I should stop hanging out with you guys,” you fret.

Everyone knows what happens when humans and monsters mingle. It’s all over the news – dead bodies and piles of dust. You get lost in morbid thoughts. What would happen if people found out you were close to so many of them? Between your classmates and your ex, people were beginning to catch on.

Sans’ sockets crease at you, and then he bursts out laughing. He grips the front of his t-shirt over his nonexistent belly as if trying to hold in his gut. “ ** _shit_ you** **’re precious,** ” he finally says. “ **hurry up and call in. afterwards, if dinner is out, then i** **’m taking you home.** ”

“But, _Sans_ -“

“ **we** **’re not negotiating on this, sweetheart,** ” he says firmly, wrapping his massive arm around your shoulders again and pulling you into his side. Sighing at that, you decide not to argue with Sans and take out your phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D For a different perspective, go see Chapter 19 of Not Your Doll core.
> 
> **MAJOR PLOT POLL: The results of this will shape a character's long-term development!**
> 
> Derrick.  
> A: Has a redemption arc like in NYD, or  
> B: Becomes an antagonist.
> 
> Confession either next chapter or the one after. It's half-written, but it's real soon :)


	24. The Kiss.

“ **nice place you got here.** ”

Sensing his sarcasm, you roll your eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Sans. I know it’s not high-class like your snazzy apartment.”

Unslinging your book bag from your shoulder, you kick off your shoes and head over to the couch, dropping your bag off next to the end before slumping into the hard cushions. Behind you Sans hangs up his coat in the closet.

“Hey, do you want anything to drink?” you sit up to offer, keeping casual but wanting to be a good host to the massive skeleton.

“ **you got any beer?** ” he asks.

“No beer,” you sigh. “Well, at least Paul hasn’t brought home any in a while. I think he quit.”

He heads over to the couch and flops down on it next to you. “ **lame,** ” he groans, lolling his head back and nearly clunking it against the wall. “ **this couch is harder than a fucking _rock_ ,**” he comments, shifting uncomfortably next to you.

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you grumble. After all, it’s where you have to sleep each night.

He turns his head slightly to scan you with that red ring of an eye. “ **why do you live in such a dump, _____?** ”

“It was either move in with my aunt and cousins, or get married off to an asshole. I _much_ prefer this,” you grin proudly, trying to nestle into the flattened paisley seat cushions as best as you can. Unfortunately, you have about as much success as the skeleton next to you.

“ **…** **where are your parents at, anyways?** ” You scowl immediately in response. “ **shit, forget i asked,** ” he apologizes, noticing the abrupt change in your expression.

“Sorry,” you groan.

“ **what the fuck are you saying sorry for _now?_** ” he scoffs. “ **you apologize too much.** ”

“I’m Canadian,” you tease, rolling your head to the side to grin at him.

“ **is that really automatic for you guys?** ”

“Basically, I guess?” you shrug again.

“ **that shit would get you gutted in the underground,** ” he hisses.

You wince at that. “I know you don’t like thinking about what life was like back there, so… How about we watch something?” you offer, hoping to distract him.

The massive skeleton shrugs next to you. “ **sure, what** **’ve ya got?** ”

* * *

 

Sans cackles at the first episode when Ivanova threatens to snap off Garibaldi’s hands at the wrist, just like _you_ had the first time you went over to his apartment for pop culture night, and you appreciate that he picks up on the reference. After the second episode, you both decided that ordering a pizza might be a good idea, and then near the end of the third you almost forget to get the door. Sans went to get it and you startled when you saw cash come out of his pocket, so you had to pounce in his way and shove your debit card into a very confused delivery guy’s face.

“ **you** **’re really into this sci-fi stuff, huh?** ”

“Yeah, I guess,” you admit. “But, what makes you say it?”

“ **you haven** **’t stopped yammering on about the space station spinning or the fighters for like half an hour,** ” he says, punctuated by deep throaty chuckling.

“Oops,” you giggle. “Sorry.”

“ **don** **’t worry about it,** ” he says casually, moving his massive shoulders in a shrug.

“So, uh… Do you like it?” you ask cautiously.

“ **the show? yeah, it** **’s alright,** ” he grins. “ **kinda wondering why you haven** **’t put in the next dvd yet, actually.** ”

“Well, we _have_ been marathoning B5 for three hours now. I thought you might want to head home? It’s getting pretty late.”

“ **it** **’s not _that_ late,** ” he protests. “ **are you worried someone might come home and see you hanging out with a monster?** ” he asks teasingly.

“ _No_ ,” you protest. “Well, okay, maybe a _little_ ,” you reconsider meekly. No one else in the house knew about your new monster friends yet, after all. Rarely was anyone else home, and it wasn’t exactly an easy topic to approach.

“ **if you want, we could bring your dvds over to my place and keep the show going,** ” he offers with a grin. “ **shit, you can even stay the night,** ” he adds eagerly.

You’re not sure you want to stay the night over at Sans’ again. Previous groping aside, it could send him the wrong message. “Naw, I have to get to school in the morning,” you decline politely. “While you’re close, I’d rather sleep here than at a friend’s place so I can get ready in the morning.”

His bony mouth twists in a grimace. “ **friends, huh?** ”

“… Yeah? What’s wrong with that? What, suddenly you’re too cool to be friends with me?” you tease.

He takes one of your hands in his massive ones, turning it over gently and smoothing the skin of your palm with his warm phalanges. It’s… Very gentle, and maybe slightly intimate? Nothing you’d expect from _Sans_. His red eye studies your palm intently as he carefully traces the lines of it with a distal fingertip. “ **what if i don** **’t want to be _just_ _friends?_** ” he looks up at you and asks, suddenly serious.

You groan, pulling your hand away from his. “Look, Sans… I know you’re always flirting with me, but I really don’t _want_ that for us. I think it would muddle things up too much, and I’m comfortable being just friends with you.”

His brow bones narrow. “ **and what the hell do you mean by that?** ”

“I mean, that I don’t really _know_ what you want? But, I’m not really down for, I don’t know, a ‘fuckbuddies’ kind of relationship? I don’t do sex without feelings, I’m just not that kind of girl.”

“ **quit acting so _stupid_.** ”

You blink in confusion at the aggressive tone. “What?”

He huffs. “ **i _know_ how smart you are. you don** **’t honestly fucking think you mean so _little_ to me, do you? you** **’re just fucking messing around again, and i** **’m getting tired of it, it pisses me _off_.** ”

… Mean so little? “Sans what are you actually saying-“

You’re cut off when two large smooth hands abruptly grab at you – One gripping your hair roughly at the back of your head, and another arm securing you against his hard body around your waist. His mouth is on yours, lips gnashing clumsily with your own stunned pair in the impromptu make-out session. You’re paralyzed as he moves you to lie on your back on the small paisley sofa, and panic starts to well up inside of you as you suddenly start to worry how far he’s going to take this. But before he pushes you any further, he pulls away and brushes some of your messy hair from your face, leaving his hand on your cheek, a pair of thick bony fingers gently resting at the side of your mouth. His eye sockets soften as he just looks at you.

“ **listen to me _____,** **‘cause i** **’m only going to say this once,** ” he says sternly, harsh voice rasping. “ **you wouldn** **’t just be some dumb lay to me.** ”

What… What did he just say?

He groans morosely as he gets up off of you, stomping over to the front hall closet and ripping his coat off of the hanger. Still in some form of shock, it takes you a second to sit up and realize he’s leaving. “Wait! Sans, where are you going?” you panic as he pulls on his jacket.

He pauses his opening of the door to glower at you. “ **to tell undyne she won the bet.** ”

Shoving his large body through the doorway he slams it shut behind him, one of the few sentimental pictures your aunt has falling from the wall with a crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fanart for this chapter! Thanks again @shrinkingcoyote!](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/151161191315/shrinkingcoyote-while-listening-to-its-a) It links to my tumblr because she had a problem with hers. Unfortunately a lot of pictures are going to be like this as a result :/
> 
> How's THAT for an edgy love confession? XD Also I'm glad I kept the confession countdown slightly obscure, 'cause then this is still a surprise!
> 
> Next chapter poll:  
> What do you do?  
> A: Follow him.  
> B: Text him.


	25. The Friendzone.

What the fuck just _happened?_

Your head is spinning. Did Sans actually just… Tell you that he _likes_ you? _Holy shit_. That came out of _nowhere_.

He’d always been so flirty and grabby, that you’d thought that was just his _thing_ or something. So the playful arguing, the teasing back and forth, and the _groping_ … That was all _actual_ flirting?? He’d been calling you sweetheart since basically the day you’d crashed into him, but you realize now that it lost its condescending edge a while ago. Wait, was that supposed to be a pet name?

Of course, he _had_ to make his point in the most back-handed way possible, but that kiss… That was no joke. That was _aggressive_ , yet, oddly tender at the end?

… _What the fuck._ You blink a few times as you try to parse the information. So your monster bud Sans has a major thing for you. He must’ve changed his mind about humans being gross at some point.

And… He just stormed out. _Shit_.

You grab your phone and wonder whether you ought to text him. After all, the giant skeleton could teleport, so he might even be home already. But, even still, this is a conversation you had to have with him face to face. If he’d gone home already, you could just show up at his apartment. It wasn’t far.

Determined, you slide into your boots and rip your coat off the hanger. You pull it on hastily and almost forget to grab your keys as you head out into the freezing rain.

* * *

 

What the fuck did he just _do!?!_

Sans was cursing himself for that stupid risky move. He’d gotten to the end of the next street before stopping, realizing that the whole _reason_ he’d insisted on taking you home was because of that bullshit with your ex. He started kicking himself mentally for ditching you like that. You shouldn’t be alone, not right now.

Should he… Go back? Could he, with how he left you?

He wondered if he could do or say something to frame it like a prank.

It _wasn_ _’t_ a prank, though. Judging from your expression and resistance, you weren’t on the same page. He’d gambled, and _lost_.

He slaps himself with both hands and drags them down his large face as he groans. Well, he couldn’t just leave things like this, could he? No matter how uncomfortable he’d made everything between you two.

He feels his phone buzz with a new text message right as he goes to shove his massive mitts into his pockets. Annoyed at the interruption to his self-loathing, he withdraws it and checks the screen.

*** she will come around snas, dnt wry.**

… _Frisk?_

He snarls at the ambassador brat’s message. It was _their_ fault he’d even gone to the fucking mall today! Why was it so _damned_ important that he pick her up at her school, anyways?! Were they _trying_ to set him up for failure?

 *** kid wtf,** he replies angrily.

*** shes on her way 2 u. n e secnd now.**

_____ left the house to go looking for him? _Shit_.

“Sans!”

He turns in place to see you running towards him, and suddenly he becomes conscious of the icy sidewalk as he sees you slide a step, but thankfully you keep your balance. The next thing he notices is your soul.

Oh, _fuck_.

You skid to a stop in front of him, leaning on your knees as you take a moment to wheeze and catch your breath. “I’m _so_ glad you didn’t teleport away,” you rasp. “This would’ve been a lot more awkward if I had to chase you down to your apartment.”

He looks down at his hands and realizes that he’d reflexively moved to catch you. Since you’re okay, he shoves them back into his pockets. “ **sweetheart, i-** “ he fumbles, not sure what to say.

“Shut your mouth,” you order breathlessly. You look up at him and he feels even worse when he realizes you’ve been crying. “ _I_ _’m_ the one who should be apologizing here,” you assert.

You straighten to look up at him, your always-confident expression crumbling away.

“I’m _so sorry_ , Sans,” you whimper. “I really had no idea. I just _assumed_ the worst thing - that you were trying to just get me into bed like I was a challenge, or an objective. I’ve known a lot of guys like that,” you say, folding your arms across your chest and looking away. “I didn’t even consider that you actually _cared_ about me.”

Suddenly he feels the urge to look around, see if there are any other monsters watching this.

“ _Shit_ this is hard…” you continue. “Second, is, uh, I don’t think I can return your feelings,” you say, sniffling and rubbing at your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“ **don** **’t apologize for that,** ” he groans. Just his luck - you only followed him so you could reject him more _thoroughly_.

“I feel like I _should_ , though,” you counter. “I don’t want this to end,” you add, voice wavering with a sob.

“ **don** **’t want what to end?** ”

“Our friendship, or whatever this was,” you mumble.

“ **why** **’s that got to end, sweetheart?** ” he asks on a reflex. What are you even saying right now?

“Because, I guess I’m uh, friendzoning you?” you manage, smiling abashedly.

“ **the fuck does _that_ mean? that sounds terrible.** ”

You look up at him, surprised, then giggle weakly. “It’s, uh, a thing guys say girls do sometimes when they become friends expecting more, but, she doesn’t put out? It’s kind of a terrible way to approach relationships, really.”

“ **sounds like it,** ” he grunts, unimpressed.

“Can we… Still be friends, though?”

He glances between your pleading tear-streaked eyes, and your soul. The familiar red heart had gone dark, _way_ darker than he’d expected it to in such a short amount of time. He didn’t anticipate he could do that to you, but he knew he was responsible for sapping your determination so much so fast. Maybe he should just cut and run, get out of your life before he can do any more damage.

But then he glances back up at your eyes again. And he remembers what you’d said the night you insisted on getting smashed eating Gaster’s stupid fancy cake together.

_“I have no one else._ _”_

Whatever monsters had done to you, whatever _he_ had done to you, there were other humans in your life who had already done _worse_. Drew was one story, and you hadn’t said much about your parents yet, but he was smart enough to intuit that there was another tale to be told. Why else would you be living with your aunt and scowling at the mention of them?

He thought it over, and… Even if your soul had darkened, he suspected that without him, it might only get worse.

That, and he didn’t really want to let go of you that easy anyways.

He chuckles, taking his hands out of his pockets to hold his arms out. “ **c** **’mere,** ” he invites.

Surprised at the gesture of affection from the skeleton, you sniffle and fall into his arms in a hug.

Sans steals a moment to indulge in your warmth, your scent, that ticklish hair of yours brushing against his clavicle. “ **nothing** **’s gotta change, sweetheart,** ” he tells you, as softly as his rough voice can manage.

“We can still be buds?” you mumble against the fluff of his jacket.

“ **sure.** ”

“You’re _so_ much nicer than you let on, you know,” you compliment honestly.

“ ** _hey_ \- what** **’d i tell you about spreading that shit around?** ” he scolds jokingly.

You giggle against his ribs and he revels in the feeling of you pressed against him. “Well, for one thing, this is a pretty long hug, and you _still_ haven’t moved to grab my ass yet.”

He blinks, then cackles at that. “ **would it make you feel better if i did?** ”

“ _No!_ ” you protest.

Curious, he shifts a hand lower to palm a cheek. You groan and push against his chest in response.

“ _Sans!!_ ” you whine, giggling as he releases you from the hug.

“ **liar,** ” he chuckles. “ **i got a laugh.** ”

“Ugh!” you groan. But you’re still smiling. He…

Oh.

Oh _SHIT_.

“Sans, is something wrong?” you ask. “You’re looking at me really funny.”

When the _fuck_ did your soul get so _BRIGHT_ again!? _HOW!?_

“ **it** **’s nothing, sweetheart,** ” he deflects.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“ **it** **’s the rain.** ”

“Your sweat is _red_ , I think I know the difference by now?” you press.

He’s confused. He swears up and down that before when you’d come up your soul had darkened, meaning that some of your determination, the power of your primary aspect, had significantly _diminished_ , attributing to your saddened mood. Something that he and other monsters had noticed in the last year of living on the surface amoung humans was that adults usually had darker souls than children. He has a theory that it has something to do with society, and the trials and tribulations of life pushing up against their primary aspects. Taxes diminished Greed, poverty prevented Indulgence, conflict the world over wore at Kindness. When Sans had first met you, your bright red soul for an adult _was_ unusual, but he didn’t pay it much attention, but now…

He realizes that, with everything you’d been through before you met, your soul _should_ have been way darker, but it _wasn_ _’t_.

Sans wonders if it’s too late to take back the whole ‘we can still be friends thing’. Because if Gaster ever found out about this… Found out that you could regenerate DT _at will_ … He doesn’t want to entertain the thought.

He shakes his head as he tries to regain his composure. What can he say to keep you from sniffing down this trail? It’s not like he could just _tell_ you about your soul – taboo aside, if you found out yours was red you’d know in an _instant_ that you’re a _mage_. All thanks to Frisk, the little _twerp_.

“Sans?” Your voice snaps him back to reality.

“ **maybe i got a little flustered** **‘s all,** ” he struggles, shrugging and grinning playfully down at you.

“Oh _god_ , don’t tell me hugs turn you on now,” you huff.

“ **what can i say? you have a _great_ ass.** ”

“ _ASS!_ ”

“ **that** **’s what i said.** ”

“Ugh!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is my favourite fanart to date :D Thank you @shrinkingcoyote!!](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/151029496460/shrinkingcoyote-so-after-sobbing-i-spent-my) Just look at how content he is with that determination-restoring hug :3
> 
> Sorry, this ship ain't setting sail just yet. Reader has some character development to do first. As for how? Well...
> 
> Let the games begin ;D


	26. The Wager.

“ **Your taste in d** **écor is, as always, admirable,** ” Gaster muses delightedly. “ **I am very pleased that you have managed to re-open your restaurant on the surface. Human cuisine _bores_ me, and the only alternative thus far has been spider pastries, which have always been** **… _Substandard_ ,**” he huffed. “ **May I ask when you officially open your doors?** ” the Royal Scientist inquires.

“… Next month,” the indigo flame elemental hums happily. Smoothing his hands against the dark navy suit jacket he’s chosen for himself, he gestures towards an empty stool in front of the bar for Gaster to seat himself, and the skeleton graciously takes it.

The lighting was low and made the atmosphere dark, yet relaxing, with the dark blue and purple décor the proprietor had chosen, booths lining the walls and dark wooden tables with matching tall chairs. The bar itself was a darkly stained mahogany, a deep purple fabric secured with brushed metal studs in a pattern along the sides of it, matching the upholstery of the booths lining the bar area behind him. The liquor bottles behind Grillby were meticulously arranged on display, on glass shelves and faintly illuminated with golden hues to make them stand out and shine.

The proprietor himself was just as much a part of the atmosphere as everything else; His indigo flames cast a faint glow on the polished counter before him, and his jacket and slacks were custom-made. Only the finest threads were acceptable for the famed six hundred year-old connoisseur of the Underground.

Grillby polishes a glass with a clean towel and sets it down on a white square napkin in front of Gaster. “… Your usual?” the elemental inquires.

“ **Of course,** ” the skeleton nods.

The bartender pulls a bottle of dark scotch from somewhere hidden behind the counter, unscrews the cap quickly and pours his client a glass. Gaster nods appreciatively before wrapping his slender phalanges almost fully around it, raising it to his mouth.

“ **Ah,** ” Gaster pauses. “ **I meant to inform you of something interesting I have discovered as of late,** ” he says, finishing with a drink. He sets the glass down. “ **How much have you interacted with humans since our return to the surface?** ”

Grillby eyes the scientist curiously for a beat, then gives a non-committal shrug. “… Had to get permits,” he replies after a moment.

“ **I see,** ” the scientist nods understandingly. “ **I _also_ try to avoid the parasites as much as possible myself. However, there is a single, _unique_ exception,** ” he hums delightedly.

Now he had the elemental’s full attention. Grillby leaned against the counter, intrigued by Gaster’s claim. The skeleton chuckles after taking another sip of scotch, setting the glass back down on the napkin, but doesn’t move his hand away from it. Gaster grins.

“ **I found a _mage_ ,**” he announces proudly. “ **An adult female who is not tied to the queen in _any way_.** ”

Grillby lets out a small crackle of shock, his flames ebbing slightly for a beat and then re-igniting in a brief burst.

“ **I knew _you_ would be delighted by the news. Even _more_ fascinating,** ” he adds. “ **Is that she does not seem to be bothered by monsters, and actively _seeks out_ our company. She is, in a word, _beautiful_ , and her soul is one of the strongest I have ever seen. Furthermore, she actively _wants_ children. As a candidate for the restoration project, she is _perfect_.** ”

“… You’re pursuing her?” Grillby asks slyly.

“ **No, _Sans_ is,** ” Gaster says boredly, lights rolling around in his black sockets. “ **But knowing him, it is only a matter of time before he _fails_ to capture her interest. His lethargy for any project assigned to him is legendary, I am _certain_ this will be _no different_ ,**” he finishes, scoffing.

And then… She would be fair game, Grillby deduces for himself. He can’t help but grin at that. His goal for the longest time was to claim a human mage for himself once they’d reached the surface, after all. His grandfather, a general in the war that trapped them, had passed the knowledge down to his own father, who then informed him, that before the war there was a certain _prestige_ to wedding a human female with a determined soul. Claiming a human mage for one’s self carried an elevated status in monster society. Human mages were _powerful_ , far more so than monsters, and women of the same could bear hybrid monster children with abilities _starting_ at a potential tier _five_.

No _wonder_ Gaster was interested. Grillby was finding himself to be _very_ interested, as well.

After all, he had lived nearly six hundred years without a partner because none were suitable enough for him. A _mage_ , however, would _certainly_ be someone he’d consider worthy of him. Reflexively he straightens and adjusts his black tie to ensure it’s straight and centered, running a hand down it to flatten it.

Gaster chuckles at his friend’s automatic preening. “ **I tell you all of this because I wish to increase the pool of potential _suitors_ , in order to find a more _favourable_ match, and who better to _woo_ her than yourself? Your charms over women _are_ the stuff of legend.** ” He raises his glass in his hand again, a long phalange extended towards him assertively. “ **I felt that you would be interested but I have _one_ condition; You _must_ have children with her, otherwise the project is a _failure_. I can sever any links to children fathered with her, and will make the same offer to _any_ monster that captures her favour. Consider your continued immortality _despite_ fatherhood an _incentive_ ,**” he grins.

The bartender retrieves another napkin, another clean glass, and the bottle of scotch again, filling it and topping up the scientist’s. He then raises the glass in an offer to toast to the news. Gaster delightedly lifts his own and gently taps it against Grillby’s glass, both men taking a drink to complete the ritual.

Just as Gaster sets his glass down, Grillby hears an odd buzzing. “ **My apologies at the interruption to our celebration, I believe that is my cell phone,** ” he mutters, digging into a pocket of his jacket. He retrieves the device and taps away to unlock it. Then his sockets widen. “ ** _Well_ ,**” he hums happily. “ **It appears to be my more _competent_ assistant, Alphys, and she bears good news; the mage I was just informing you of has communicated that she has no romantic interest in my worthless _son_ , and has even included that she thinks I am** **… _Nice_.** ”

Grillby pauses. “… Nice?” he asks after a beat.

“ **I know. I am particularly flummoxed at that characterization, as well,** ” the Royal Scientist muses, brow bones creased. “ **In any case,** **‘nice** **’ is not a _negative_ assessment, so perhaps it is something I can reinforce and turn in to something _more_ ,**” he adds, tapping out a reply. “ **I am asking my assistant to share the human girl** **’s contact details with me, so we may begin pursuit _immediately_. Would you care for them as well?** ”

Grillby shakes his head, flames trailing slightly behind the motion. “… Bring her here,” he says.

“ **But you have not yet opened to the public** **…** ” Gaster protests immediately. Then he reconsiders. “ **You mean to offer a more _private_ setting, do you not?** ”

The barman nods decisively. “… Everything is already prepped. Little left to do,” he explains, gesturing to the bar area, and again behind himself. Staff was hired, boxes were unpacked, and all the furniture was installed or set in place. There was nothing left but to wait for the inspectors to make their last rounds, and then open the doors on the designated date.

“ **I think that is a splendid idea,** ” he muses. “ **The two of us bachelors cornering the human** **– I am certain she will be unable to resist our combined efforts. Perhaps we could make it a wager? Whoever wins her favour is the better man, and owes the other, say** **… One thousand gold pieces?** ”

Gaster raises his glass again and Grillby clinks his against it without hesitation, hissing a laugh. “… _Two_ thousand. May the better man win,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy are you ready for this? Gaster just declared open season on Reader. Check the tags - It's time to flirt or _be_ flirt.
> 
> Another one I didn't edit as thoroughly as I normally do. May go back to edit if I notice anything amiss, like repeated words or grammar clunkiness.


	27. The Club.

“I can’t believe you actually think Gaster is _nice_ , nerd.”

It’s the afternoon of the next day before classes, and you decided to drag Undyne out to Timmies for a hot chocolate and catch-up. After Alphys hijacked yesterday’s cake conversation with probing questions about your thoughts on the skeleton guys, you needed information. And from a source that was a lot more… Stable, and reliable.

“Well,” you shrug. “He just sort of _is?_ He’s never been anything but a _gentleman_ to me. I guess that’s why I don’t really understand your warning.”

Undyne scoffs. “ _Everybody_ is afraid of that guy. The only ones who aren’t are the King and Queen, because of their titles, and _complete idiots_ ,” she barks.

“So you’re afraid of him too, _Sergeant_ Undyne the _Undying?_ ” you say teasingly with a mock salute. As _if_ you’d let her off the hook for just implying you’re stupid to think otherwise.

“It’s _smart_ to be,” she sneers. “He’s over a thousand years old and the only surviving monster from the war. He’s killed a _lot_ of people – humans _and_ monsters. There’s literally _no one alive_ that could take him in a fight.”

You shiver at that. “Oh…”

“I don’t get why he’s _changed_ , though,” she continues rambling. “I mean, being ‘nice’ and flirting with you? What’s up with _that?_ You’re a _human_ , so, why is he even interested? I just don’t get it.”

“Maybe coming to the surface mellowed him out?”

Undyne blinks at that. “I guess that makes sense. He used to be obsessed with destroying the barrier.”

“Maybe you could ask Alphys what’s up with him?” you suggest, shrugging. Undyne immediately scoffs, confusing you. “What?” you ask.

“We don’t talk to each other about crap like that.”

“… Why not?”

“Because it’s _weird?_ ” she answers uncomfortably. “Besides, if it has anything to do with her work with Gaster, then she’ll never tell me anything. That stuff is top secret, and I’m not trusted. I doubt even _Toriel_ knows what the old spook is up to these days,” she hums, raising her tea to her lips.

“How can you have a relationship without trust?”

Undyne pauses slurping at her drink. “What?”

“I mean,” you huff. “If you and Alphys are getting _married_ , how come you can’t tell each other anything? I _get_ that her work is top secret, but at the very least she could answer basic questions about it, couldn’t she? How do two people who don’t _trust_ each other still make it work?”

“Old habits die hard,” she shrugs. “Nobody trusted anyone else in Underground, not even couples. The minute a monster lets their guard down to someone? _Bam_ , easy kill.”

You have to take a moment to parse that. “Everything I hear about Underground… It sounds like it was hell.”

“It _was_.”

You swallow hard and wither in your seat. “Sorry…”

“You apologize too much.”

“I know.”

“Let’s change the subject,” she offers, noticing your discomfort. “I heard that Sans confessed to you and you shut him down,” she grins toothily.

“Uh, yeah. Hey, was that the bet you won?” you inquire.

“Hah! That reminds me, Papyrus owes me a hundred gold.” So the bet was with Papyrus? “Yeah, I _knew_ that bonehead had it out for you. You should’ve seen how bothered he was when you decided to sit on his lap that first night you came over. Ballsy move, by the way, sitting up against a boss monster like that.”

“I seriously had _no idea_ ,” you wither. He’d liked you since that first pop culture night? “First time I met him, he called humans parasites and said I was _gross_.”

“Must’ve changed his mind, then,” she chuckles.

“Must have,” you agree. “I can’t imagine why, though,” you hum, going to take a sip of your hot chocolate.

“ **it was _definitely_ that ass.** ”

You nearly do a spit take all over Undyne as you set down your drink with a thump. “SANS!?” you panic, spinning around in your chair to face the chuckling mountain of skeleton that’s suddenly behind you.

“ **you girls done with your chit chat?** ”

“Um… Not really?”

“ **well, it** **’s almost one o** **’clock.** ”

You check the time on your phone. “Oh, _shit_.”

“ **oh shit is right,** ” he cackles. “ **come on sweetheart, let** **’s get you to class.** ”

You blink, barely registering Undyne’s restrained laugh across from where you’re turned around in your seat. “Since when do you walk me to school?”

“ **since assholes started bothering ya around it,** ” he asserts, gritting his sharpened points of teeth.

It was hard to forget both Derrick _and_ Drew’s antics just yesterday. But, even still… “I don’t need an escort, Sans. I can take care of myself,” you insist.

“ **then** **… you walk _yourself_ to class, and i** **’ll walk in the same general direction,** ” the skeleton grins.

“ _Sans_ _…_ ” you groan.

“ **i** **’ll even walk behind you. give myself the best view,** ” he winks slyly.

“UGH!” you growl, defeated. “FINE. But you’re walking _next_ to me, _not_ behind.”

“ **fine,** ” he grunts, stepping forward and grabbing your school bag off your chair.

“Hey Sans,” Undyne calls. “Pay up.”

“ **put it on my tab.** ”

“Oh right, because you _always pay that_ ,” she sneers unhappily, holding out a webbed hand.

Sans sighs, unzipping a pocket on his coat and withdrawing a small brown bag. He throws it on the table in front of the Sergeant and has the heavy clinking sound of coins. “ **bust my bones about it, why don** **’t ya,** ” he hisses.

You look between the two of them, interpreting the interaction, then turn to Sans in slight shock. “You were in on the bet too?” you ask, slightly appalled.

“ **yeah. what of it?** ”

“What did _you_ bet would happen?” you demand to know.

“ **i figured you** **’d jump my bones first,** ” he chuckles, cheekbones tinting red.

“ _What!?_ ”

“ **hey, i** **’m out a hundred gold** **‘cause you didn** **’t,** ” the skeleton whines. “ **if anyone gets to be pissed about this it** **’s _me_.** ”

“ _Ass!_ ”

“ **don** **’t mind if i do,** ” he hums mirthfully. Suddenly you’re swatting at a large skeletal hand that’s moved uncomfortably close to your butt yet again. “ **hurry up and get your coat on, you** **’re going to be late for your class.** ”

“I guess I’ll catch you later Undyne,” you shrug as you push your arms into the sleeves of your winter jacket. “I’m off Saturday, want to hang out then?” Maybe you could go a few rounds in laser tag. It was a weird sort of fun with how seriously competitive she made it.

“Sure thing, nerd,” she smiles.

You still felt a bit bad about rejecting him just last night, but if he was okay to play it off like nothing had ever happened, so were you. This friendship dynamic with the monsters, no matter how awkward it was sometimes, or how… Grim, the conversation could abruptly turn… It sort of _worked_ , and made you feel like part of something. Something not inhuman, but… Different enough to feel special. As if you had infiltrated a secret, and very exclusive club, maybe? It was a difficult feeling to describe.

You just hope that things can stay like this for as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it's kind of a filler-y chapter, but in my defense, three things:
> 
> One, more development of Undyne/Reader's friendship (Edgy fluff yay!)  
> Two, Sans is now walking Readz to/from class for safety/to get an extended look at _dat ass_.  
>  And Three, it's poll time again!
> 
> Who goes after Reader first?  
> A: Gaster,  
> B: Grillby, or  
> C: Mettaton?
> 
> I'm a tiny bit uninspired for how to _start_ this next part, so the top result will help me decide  <3


	28. The Text.

“ **so hey, how come i** **’m not good enough for you, sweetheart?** ”

You sigh your response. “Sans…”

“ **i don** **’t wanna push or nothing,** **’m just curious,** ” he claims innocently. Sans thought, if he could figure out what he screwed up, maybe he could fix it or something. He was willing to try just about anything to keep you _away_ from Gaster, and to keep you for himself.

“ _Really_ ,” you side-eye the tall skeleton walking next to you. “ _You_ don’t want to push.”

He chuckles at that, but composes himself quickly. “ **just gotta know, is it because i** **’m a monster?** ” he inquires. If it _was_ just the physical differences, then that would honestly be a good thing. No Sans, but no Gaster either.

“I guess, that’s one part of it?” you shrug. “There’s a lot more to it than that, though.”

“ **such as?** ” he presses.

You groan in response. “Look, can we not talk about this right now? After class, okay?”

“ **fine,** ” he concedes. Later would be fine.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, startling you. He watches you take off your gloves to rummage for it, seemingly eager for the distraction.

“ **what** **’s up, sweetheart?** ”

“I just got a text from an unknown number,” you reply, unlocking your phone. “Oh, I think it’s your dad.”

Sans pauses a step, sockets going pitch black. “ **the hell does _he_ want?** ” he asks bitterly.

You open the text to read it. He looks over your shoulder at your phone screen to check it out.

*** Good afternoon, is this _____? This is Dr. Gaster. I hope this message finds you well.**

“He’s just asking what’s up so far,” you shrug. “I’m going to respond back with a stupid nickname, okay?”

*** Wasup dingdong?**

_Dingdong_. You called _Gaster_ ‘Dingdong’ - and without _any_ hesitation. Sans wasn’t sure if you could get any more amazing, imagining the old bastard’s face at being addressed as ‘Dingdong’. Could he hire you to piss off your dad _all the time?_ His mind gleefully took the idea and ran off with it. After all, you’re probably the only person on the planet right now that could talk shit to him without provoking him to increase his LV.

There’s a long delay before he replies back, and you spend it snickering to yourself at your own joke. He’s caught between joining you in laughing and feeling utterly disgusted with Gaster. What exactly was he trying to pull? Why now? What’s changed?

*** I am curious if you would be interested in joining me for dinner?**

“Um, I think he’s asking me out?” you answer, expression twisting up in confusion. “Wow, what an awkward _dork_. Hey, what should I say in response?” you ask playfully.

Sans doesn’t say anything. You walk a step into him in a nudge. He startles and looks at you.

“Something wrong?” you ask.

“ **naw,** ” he answers, giving you a fake smile.

“Liar,” you accuse. “It bothers you that he’d try asking me out the day after I rejected you.”

“ **well, _yeah_ ,**” he grunts.

“Don’t fret your empty head, I’m not interested in your _dad_ , either,” you attempt to reassure your skeletal bud. “I get that monsters don’t care about age disparity, or whatever, but I can’t help that I do. Besides, I’m just not interested in seeing _anyone_ right now. It never works out anyways,” you grumble.

He raises a brow bone at that.

“Come on, help me think of some dumb response. Think of this as an opportunity to mess with your dad,” you grin up at him.

“ **hmm,** ” he hums, considering it. “ **okay, here** **’s an idea** **…** ”

* * *

 

“ **gimme a hug, sweetheart,** ” the skeleton asks, a sharp golden tooth glinting at the side of his wide smile.

“Why?” you ask suspiciously. This is probably a setup for another grope. No, wait, it’s _definitely_ a setup.

“ **’** **cause that asshole that grabbed you yesterday is looking our way,** ” he beams sharply, nodding towards the glass doors that separate the school from the rest of the mall. They have a clear view straight through into the student lobby.

… He wants to make Derrick jealous? Well, you can’t argue with _that_. Grinning, you wrap your arms around the large skeleton and lean in to him. Well, this ought to make that douchebag’s head spin, you chuckle into the hard bony chest.

But, predictably, a hand slides down and squeezes your butt, and you smack Sans’ bones in protest until he lets you go.

“Not cool, Sans!” you huff. “Seriously, that’s _really_ starting to get on my nerves – No means _no_ , so why do you keep _doing_ that!?”

“ **i _said_ he was looking, didn** **’t i?** ” he hums. You turn on your heel and move to walk away. “ **oh wait, hold up a sec,** ” the skeleton calls after you.

Pausing a step, you answer “I’m already late” in protest. Plus you’re kind of tired of him violating that boundary.

“ **c** **’mon, it** **’ll only take a sec.** ”

You’re tempted to just keep going in spite of him, but sigh and decide to just see what he wants. Maybe he’s about to apologize? Thinking about it, you really can’t afford to miss _that_.

He holds out both of his massive palms for your hand, and you decide to offer it. Your hand looks so small in his, and he steals a moment to indulge in your soft skin, while you resist the chills it’s sending down your spine at the same time you notice that they aren’t at all hard – more soft, flexing and movable like a warm, stiff gel.

Then you’re suddenly and alarmingly distracted as a hot tingling sensation starts pooling in your wrist. “Whoa, what is _that!?_ ” you panic, flinching away, but his phalanges hold fast.

“ **give it a second,** ” he instructs you.

You can’t really challenge his strength, but the sensation isn’t totally comfortable. But, one more second, and it ebbs abruptly. He lets go of your hand and you pull it away, rubbing at your wrist and wondering what just happened.

Wait. Wasn’t it sore? You raise your arm and pull your sweater’s sleeve back to take a look at it, confused. What the heck _was_ that?

“ **healing magic,** ” he answers your unspoken question, shoving his hands in his pockets. “ **you** **’ve gotta do computer shit in class today, right? figured i couldn** **’t leave your arm bruised like that.** ”

Sans is… Really kind of a sweetheart himself, isn’t he? Underneath all that bravado, and despite the _grabbing_ , he really _does_ care.

You step in closer to him and he seems to startle anxiously, but when you grab his coat and kiss his cheekbone – just a small, friendly peck on the cheek, you justify to yourself - the tension melts from him. “Thanks, Sans. See you after class,” you tell him with a smile, grabbing at your backpack as he unslings it from his shoulder to offer it to you.

“ **yeah,** ” he breathes. “ **later, sweetheart.** ”

Feeling proud of his flustered face as he turns away, you shrug your bag onto your own shoulder, and turn to open the glass main door into the school. Derrick’s standing right there at the front of the lobby, jaw agape at having seen the whole thing.

“Are you alright?” he asks, sounding panicked.

Your eyes narrow at Derrick. “ _Yeah_ ,” you answer sharply, holding up your newly healed arm. “No thanks to _you_.”

“What did _I_ do?” he flusters.

“Uh, you put a huge nasty ass _bruise_ on my arm trying to _restrain_ me yesterday?” you remind him. “Sans just healed it for me.”

“He used _magic_ on you?”

“Yeah. So what of it?” you challenge, pushing past him to head for the classroom. “Wouldn’t even be the first time,” you add, remembering that time he teleported you.

Wait, if he could teleport, why didn’t he just port you to school if you were going to be late? You grumble at the thought. Was it so he could spend more time with you? Only Sans could manage to make you feel so conflicted – one part of you kind of flattered that he wanted to stick around you, and the other _totally_ annoyed that he didn’t actually leverage his laziness for once so you could get to school on time. Jackass.

“We don’t know what monster magic actually _does_ to people, save for a few _lethal_ examples,” he charges, following closely behind. “You shouldn’t be letting the monsters use it on you. You have _no idea_ what you’re doing,” he stresses.

You spin around quickly to confront the belittling asshole. “ _YOU_ don’t know **SHIT** about **_ANYTHING!_** ” you screech at him, veins burning and _full_ of rage. His expression stunned as you point a finger angrily into his face. “Sans may _look_ like a scary motherfucker, but he’s about a _hundred_ fucking times nicer than _you_ _’ll ever be_ you **_dumb shit!_** In fact, the _only reason_ he’s walking me to school now IS _BECAUSE_ OF **ASSHOLES** LIKE **_YOU_**.”

He blinks. “But-“

“This is **MY** LIFE. Stay the **FUCK** _out_ of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader's not going to put up with Derricks shit :P Also the votes were close-ish and Grillby might've won by one or two since I last counted them, but I had already started writing for Gaster. Oh well, I'll just make sure we meet Grillby very soon. Reader polls in writing is hardly an exact science, lol.
> 
> To be honest, I don't actually have anything for Sans' suggestion to bug Gaster via text, but I wanted to open the floor to you guys to see if you can help me trigger some epic brainstorming? D: Feel free to suggest text shenanigans and scenarios, and when I read 'em tomorrow I'm hoping I'll find something that helps me push the next chapter out the door too :D
> 
> Thanks, you guys rock.


	29. The Petition.

“ **SANS.** ”

The shorter of the two skeletons lolls his head against the back of the massive couch, looking over at his taller brother upside-down. “ **yeah, boss?** ” he greets lazily.

“ **TELL ME EXACTLY _WHEN_ YOU PLAN TO TIDY THAT _STY_ THAT IS YOUR ROOM,** ” Papyrus demands. “ **IT IS PRODUCING AN UNPLEASENT _ODOUR_ THAT MUST BE REMEDIED BEFORE IT CREEPS INTO THE REST OF THE APARTMENT!** ”

Sans groans, lifting his head to roll it forward as he noisily rattles the newspaper he’s holding in both hands. “ **i’ll get to it when i get to it,** ” he huffs belligerently, scanning with his eyes to find the spot where he left off in the article he was reading.

“ **WELL, YOU HAD BETTER GET TO IT SOON, OR _ELSE_.** ”

“ **or else what?** ” he mutters absently.

The newspaper is abruptly ripped from his phalanges and replaced with an angry skeletal face. “ **OR ELSE YOU WILL BE _DISCIPLINED!_ I AM _NOT_ IN THE MOOD FOR YOUR _SHIT_ TODAY, SANS. SEE TO IT _TODAY_.** ”

“ **can’t,** ” he shrugs. “ **i’ve already got other plans.** ”

“ ** _WHAT_ OTHER PLANS?** ” the captain demands. “ **THESE ‘PLANS’ DON’T INVOLVE THAT _HUMAN_ , DO THEY?**”

“ **you caught me,** ” he chuckles. “ **i told her i’d pick her up from school, then i’ve gotta head to work afterwards.** ”

Papyrus withdraws, absolutely disgusted. “ **I CANNOT UNDERSTAND WHAT IS SO FASCINATING ABOUT THIS ONE. FIRST _YOU_ , THEN ALPHYS AND UNDYNE, AND NOW EVEN _GASTER!_ WHAT IS SO SPECIAL ABOUT HER?** ”

“ **don’t know about anyone else,** ” Sans hums. “ **but, personally, i just wanna take her to the bone zone,** ” he grins lewdly.

The royal guard captain blinks his confusion. “ **I DON’T UNDERSTAND. YOU WANT TO FIGHT HER?** ”

Sans chuckles, floating the remains of the newspaper back over to himself and fluffing out the wrinkled pages. “ **you just keep that virginity of yours on lockdown, boss,** ” he says, amused.

“ **MY WHAT?** ”

“ **Papyrus.** ”

Both skeletons freeze in place, Papyrus standing tall and fidgeting with his armour briefly as Gaster strides over to greet them. Sans, on the other hand, just shrinks into the sofa as his sockets go black, faintly-red sweat beading along the sides of his skull.

“ **Do you not have work this afternoon?** ” the royal scientist continues to address his younger son, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“ **I DO. I HAVE TO TRAIN SOME NEW GUARDS TODAY,** ” he groans, irritated.

“ **Then, as esteemed Captain of the Royal Guard, should you not _ensure_ that you set a good example by arriving _ahead_ of time?** ” the scientist suggests pointedly.

Papyrus starts, then casts a glare over at Sans. “ **BUT, _SANS_ -**”

“ **I have a solution for that,** ” the old skeleton interrupts, clasping his long hands behind his back. “ **Sans will remain here this afternoon and finish the chore as you have requested. _I_ will fetch _____ from her school in his place.** ”

Oh, _fuck_. Sans hisses a breath at that.

“ **… VERY WELL THEN,** ” Papyrus beams, satisfied with the victory. “ **I WILL RETURN BY FIVE O’CLOCK TO PREPARE DINNER,** ” he announces, then marches past Gaster and grabs his keys by the door before leaving.

The door slams closed behind the loud skeleton, leaving the two alone in the room together. Sans summons his red eye back to look up at the royal scientist.

“ **how long were you listening in?** ” he has to ask.

“ **Long enough,** ” he responds. He stalks over to the other end of the couch and seats himself there, spreading his long arms along the back of it in a rare relaxed posture.

“ **say,** ” Sans begins, raising a brow bone inquisitively. “ **since when are you texting _____ and inviting her out to dinner?** ”

“ **Since _today_ , I suppose,**” he hums, bringing his long hands in to adjust the folds of his dress shirt and tighten his tie a degree. “ **Although I feel I must make that invitation _again_ , in _person_ , due to that utter _nonsense_ she was responding with earlier. I presume _you_ had something to do with it?** ”

“ **it’s a distinct possibility,** ” he shrugs, grinning.

“ **Well, while I may not know what a ‘happy meal’ is, beyond the utterly _patronizing_ name, I neither desire one nor do I require an _escort_ to procure it,** ” he hisses.

Well, at least it made her laugh, Sans thinks to himself. “ **since when are you inviting her out at all, though?** ” he presses cautiously. “ **i thought she was _my_ project.** ”

“ **She _was_ ,**” Gaster grins. “ **That is, until my _other_ assistant discovered that she considers you _ineligible_ as a suitor. So, in response to yet another one of your _failures_ , I have decided to increase the pool of potential mates.**”

“ **… potential mates?** ” he asks, trying to disguise the disgust he feels at that.

“ **I have decided to take up the task myself, since she seems to consider me attractive, and I have enlisted Grillby’s aid, as well.** ”

Sans swore inside of his head. The thought of both Gaster _and_ Grillby going after _____ made his magic churn uncomfortably. “ **i’m still working on her though,** ” he insists. “ **she ain’t the type to just jump in to bed with a guy – i’ve really had to improvise just to get her to consider me a _friend_ or whatever. i don’t think whatever your plan is is going to work.** ”

“ ** _Well_ , I suppose we will find out for certain _which_ of our methods produces _results_ soon enough,** ” Gaster muses confidently, rising to his feet. “ **In the meantime, if you ever want _her_ or _anyone else_ to see the inside of your bedroom under _any_ circumstances, I recommend you make it habitable to beings _other_ than yourself, and rid it of that _noxious stench_.** ”

Well… Okay, Gaster might have a point there, Sans silently concedes. “ ** _fine_ ,**” he surrenders, folding up the torn newspaper as best as he can and setting it aside. “ **do we have any of that ‘febreese’ shit left, or did papyrus use it all up on the carpets again?** ”

* * *

 

“Just _fuck off_ already, Derrick.”

You swing your book bag onto your shoulder as you try to clear out at the end of the class, having a brief fight with the chair one of your seatmates forgot to push in after leaving a couple minutes earlier. Groaning, you push it in for them so you can get past it, only to find that the affluent asshole has beaten you to the doorway, blocking it with is body.

“We _really_ need to discuss this,” he demands.

“I _really_ have _nothing to say to you_ other than fuck off,” you hiss at him.

He holds out his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m not trying to start a fight-”

“The hell you _aren’t_ , you’re just blocking me from leaving the classroom!”

“I’m just concerned about the company you seem to be keeping, and-”

“Is there a problem here?”

Derrick looks behind you as you turn. It’s your teacher Richard.

“Yes, there is a problem,” Derrick confidently pipes up. You glare at him as a smug grin crosses his face. “_____ has been associating with monsters lately.”

There’s a tense beat of silence before Richard clears his throat. “So?”

You praise god silently in your head, swearing that if he wasn’t your prof you could probably _kiss_ him right now.

“… _So?_ ” Derrick balks.

“Does that have anything to do with the subject I teach?” Rich presses.

“I suppose it _doesn’t_ , but-“

“Then there’s no reason for us to still be in this classroom, is there?”

Such a fucking _badass_. It’s taking everything you have _not_ to pounce on this man in a hug right now, already past done with Derrick’s discrimination of your monster friends.

“But-“

“Derrick Smith, if you do not remove yourself from the doorway within the next three seconds, I will be forced to report this incident to the dean.”

The douchebag huffs in defeat before finally getting out of the way, and you waste no time in moving quickly through the open doorway, turning and muttering a distracted ‘Thanks’ towards your prof. You’re abruptly stopped though, when you suddenly crash into the body of a tall skeleton monster.

“Shit, sorry Sans I didn’t- Gaster?!” you startle in surprise.

He chuckles softly as he places his long-fingered hands on your shoulders to help you steady yourself. “ **You ought to take more care in watching where you are going,** ” he says, sounding amused.

“Sorry,” you fumble again. Geez, why does he fluster you so much? He looks good in a suit, you figure. “Um, what are you doing here?” you ask, shrugging his hands off your shoulders.

“ **Sans communicated that you have been having some trouble with certain individuals around your school lately, but he was otherwise occupied this afternoon so he requested that I accompany you in his stead.** ” He gently takes both of your hands in his, and you’re not sure if you feel either flattered or annoyed at his insistence on touching you all the time. Well, at least he doesn’t try to grab your ass. “ **I _also_ saw it as an opportunity to reiterate my invitation from earlier,** ” he adds lightly.

Oh, right. What is it with skeletons and trying to buy you dinner lately? “I already said no thanks,” you reject him once again, shaking your head.

The royal scientist frowns slightly at that, but his gentle demeanor returns as he presses. “ **A pity. I had hoped you would reconsider. After all, you look particularly _lovely_ today, and I would be the envy of _all_ men if you should stoop to be on my arm tonight.**”

Lovely? You take a moment to look down at yourself. A stained geeky t-shirt from the internet, pajama pants and mismatched grey socks, one with a hole in the heel, though no one could tell with your winter boots on. You give him a discerning look when your eyes return to meet his again. “You’re not used to hearing the word ‘no’, are you?” you charge.

He seems surprised by your declaration. “ **I beg your pardon?** ”

“You’re trying to butter me up so I change my mind, right?” you charge, taking your hands away to stuff them in your pockets again. “Also, what is there to ‘stoop’ for? You’re over eight feet tall,” you point out jokingly.

Gaster hums at that, then he laughs softly. “ **I admire your intuition and quick wit, but there is _one_ detail I neglected to mention - I believe it may cause you to reconsider?** ” he promises.

“And that is?” you challenge.

“ **You _do_ remember that cake you enjoyed at our apartment, do you not?** ”

The one you got drunk off of because it was way too strong? “Yeah, what about it?”

“ **The gentleman who prepared it has asked me to invite you to his restaurant for a private dinner. He wishes to obtain more of your valuable feedback before he formally opens his doors.** ”

Oh, _shit_. That’s definitely a game changer - that cake was fucking _amazing_. You’re not really sure which part of your feedback was ‘valuable’ though, as you were kind of out of it. “ _That’s_ where you want to go?” you stammer.

“ **Indeed,** ” he beams.

Well… _Fuck_. You guess you’re going to have to go out with Gaster, then. “On one condition,” you demand, folding your arms but raising a hand with a finger pointing up at him authoritatively. “I want you to teach me about magic over dinner.”

“ **Truly?** ” he’s surprised. “ **I did not think you were interested.** ”

“I wasn’t until today,” you admit, bringing that same hand to rub at the back of your neck. “But then Sans healed a bruise I had earlier.”

“ **You injured yourself?** ”

“No, there was a fight yesterday. Well, kind of.”

“ **With whom?** ”

“With that asshole that’s been leaning against the display case scowling at us this whole time,” you inform him, jerking a thumb casually behind you.

You hear Derrick suck in a nervous breath as the skeleton’s gaze shifts over to him, eye sockets going black and narrowing scornfully. Somehow you get the feeling that, if you and Gaster linger here any longer, someone’s going to have an _extremely_ bad time.

“Err,” you interrupt the tense silence. “Come on, doc. Let’s head over to your friend’s fancy restaurant, all right?” you offer, sliding a hand out of your pocket for his. You don’t _really_ want to hold hands with him like a couple, but you feel slightly remorseful for getting him to stare down Derrick like that, so you’ll take anything you can use to get his attention back.

His eye lights return to smile down at you. “ **Very well,** ” he nods, gently wrapping his warm slender phalanges around your hand as you steer him towards the exit doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your suggestions last chapter, it really helped to shape this chapter up a little better :P
> 
> Next chapter: Dinner at Grillby's!
> 
> While I was waiting for comments I just went through my Tumblr and linked most of the fanarts I've received so far to their respective chapters :P You may want to go through and check out the end notes of each one (Particularly chapters 8, 18, 21, 24, and 25), as I think they're awesome. If you want to send me fanarts, or if you've sent me some and want to see them linked here, [let me know on my Tumblr!](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I should also note that this is just one interpretation of Reader, and that virtually any interpretation of what she looks like is 100% valid. Draw her as yourself or draw her as an OC, I love 'em all <3


	30. The Elemental.

You weren’t sure what to expect with a name like Grillby, but a man _literally_ made out of fire wasn’t it.

“ **_____, this gentleman is Grillby Fieri, renowned restauranteur of the Underground,** ” Gaster introduces.

He inclines his head in a slight bow and offers a burning hand towards you, and you eye it suspiciously.

The royal scientist chuckles and you feel a hand on your lower back, urging you forward. “ **He will not burn you, if that is your concern,** ” he reassures you.

“Uhm,” you stammer, raising a hand cautiously. “Okay… Nice to meet you, Grillby.”

You go to take his hand, and… It’s the _strangest_ feeling. The area where his hand is feels _hot_ , though not uncomfortably so, and your fingers find purchase on something not entirely there? You have the vaguest sensation of holding something, a hand for sure, but it’s a feeling that’s barely there, like you might as well be holding _air_ instead. Excessively _warm_ air, but _still_.

Grillby seems to chuckle as you instinctively pull his hand gently towards you to try and figure it out, turning it over and bringing up your other hand to investigate. You can’t press your fingers _through_ his ‘hand’, despite making the attempt, as if there’s something solid stopping you but you can’t actually touch it.

Suddenly you startle as he pulls yours back to his face, the white spots of flames he has for eyes smiling at you. “… The pleasure is all mine,” he hisses genially. There’s a brief sensation of hot lips pressing against your hand in a kiss, but it’s got that same eerie barely-there feeling to it.

“Sorry if that was rude,” you apologize awkwardly as you pull your hand away, fiddling with your hair. “I’ve, uh, just never met a fire elemental before. I was curious.”

The indigo flame monster grins and shrugs nonchalantly. You guess that means you’re forgiven? Unlike Gaster, he seems to be a man of few words. He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm towards the dining area, and it seems there’s a candle on the table in one of the booths, lit with a gentle flame.

“ **After you, my dear,** ” Gaster urges.

Happy to get his hand off your back, you head over to the booth and slide yourself into a seat. Gaster seats himself across from you, resting his long skinny forearms on the table, smiling at you softly.

“Reminder - this is _not_ a date,” you insist. “I just saw an opportunity for awesome food and to learn about magic, alright?”

“ **Of course,** ” the scientist chuckles. “ **I would not presume to make you uncomfortable.** ”

Well, at least he’ll stay focused, you figure. You startle as suddenly the fire elemental is leaning against the side of your booth seat, the well-dressed six-foot fire crackling very close to you.

“… I have prepared a sampling menu tonight,” he hums charmingly.

“Oooh, that sounds nice,” you beam up at him, feeling excited about trying a variety of his dishes.

He smiles. “… I am certain you will enjoy it.”

* * *

 

You’re chowing down on small servings of delicious steak, seafood, and baked vegetable dishes while sipping at some small shot glasses of fine wines. Initially you had turned down the offers of alcohol, but Grillby insisted on pairing the various items on the various plates with wine, so yeah, you’d stolen a few sips by this point. Everything tasted _incredible_ , and you felt completely spoiled at the expensive luxuries just being handed to you. A knot forms in your stomach at what the bill’s going to come to… But that doesn’t slow down your consumption in the slightest. The food is _amazing_ , and the atmosphere is _exceedingly_ comfortable. You make sure to shower Grillby with praise each time he comes by with a new dish.

Gaster’s been telling you about monster physiology, or rather, lack thereof. It turns out monsters are more magic than physical matter, and that it’s their soul and the energy that comes from it that powers them. They have two primary types of magic – healing and physical – and he explains that the healing magic substitutes their lack of an immune system for repairing cuts and scrapes, and that physical magic gives them a way to fight and defend themselves.

“ **Here,** ” he says, offering his hand across the table. “ **Take my hand.** ”

Curious, you set down your fork and knife down as you accept his long bony fingers in your own. It’s warm, though that’s no surprise by this point, remembering how cuddly Sans can be when he’s not grabbing your butt. You guess monster skeletons are just always warm. Well, at least that’s better than the alternative.

“ **Do you feel that faint hum, the vibration coursing through my fingers?** ”

“Uh, yeah I think so,” you admit after swallowing. “It’s very faint, but I think I can.”

He makes a pleased hum at that. “ **That vibration is the magic animating my body,** ” he explains.

“Hey, I’ve got a question,” you say, turning over his hand in both of yours. “If your body is like, dust animated by magic, then is using magic how you got the holes in your hands?”

“ **You are _very_ intuitive,** ” he praises. “ **Yes, it was an… _Overuse_ of magic that led me to injure myself in such a unique way. When the barrier was first erected, I attempted to destroy it using my full power. But, I merely overextended myself, and it started to wear down my body.** ”

“And, healing magic can’t fix it?” you ask.

“ **No,** ” he sighs, taking his hand from yours and rubbing his opposite thumb against the back of it, along the edge of the hole. “ **It cannot.** ”

“Hmm,” you hum thoughtfully. “Say, you said that there’s only two types of monster magic, but Sans has another one – Teleportation. What’s _that_ about?”

“ **Ah,** ” he smiles. “ **Yes, boss monsters have an extra ability that relates to their primary aspect. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to discuss the soul colour spectrum?** ”

“Oh yeah, tell me about that!” you agree giddily.

“ **Since you mentioned my son, I will start with him; His soul colour is a cerulean blue, which in our charts represents Sloth,** ” he says, though he seems to have some restraint. “ **His boss monster heritage combined with his primary aspect grants him the ability to teleport, as you have witnessed, as well as telekinesis.** ”

“Geez, that makes perfect sense for Sans,” you admit, giggling. “I bet if he had his way he’d never move a day in his life.”

“ **He _does_ have a history of being _difficult_ to motivate,** ” the royal scientist confesses, cracking a smirk.

You wheeze another laugh at that, and he joins you with a gentle chuckle. “Hey, can you tell me more about soul colours?” you implore.

“ **Of course,** ” he grins.

He tells you that there are fourteen different aspects, or colours, that a soul can have, and you make the connection yourself that they seem to parallel the seven deadly sins and the seven heavenly virtues. Some of them even share the same names – Kindness, Patience, Pride, Wrath – while others are different – Lust is now Passion, Greed is now Avarice, and Diligence is Determination. He draws a diagram on a napkin to help you out. Primary aspects are the colour of the soul itself, but secondary aspects, the two neighbouring the primary, relate to how a monster (Or a human) achieves their primary instinct. Tertiary aspects are also relevant instincts, and are the next closest aspects to the primary.

“Can I ask you something selfish?” you interrupt the explanation when he goes for another drink of water.

“ **A quest for knowledge is hardly _ever_ selfish. Ask away,** ” he replies charmingly, setting the glass down and intertwining his long skeletal fingers together patiently.

“Can you tell me the colour of my own soul?” you ask. “Or, is that rude or something?”

“ **It is not rude in the slightest,** ” he grins broadly. “ **In fact, I am thrilled with your continued curiosity.** ”

“Is there a test or something you need to do first?”

“ **No. As a matter of fact, monsters can natively see souls at all times,** ” he clarifies. He unlaces his fingers to tap the corner of the napkin with your copy of the chart in his very neat handwriting. “ **Your soul colour is _red_ , which if you recall, represents Diligence, or Determin-**“

“WAIT- I’M A _MAGE!?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No relation to Guy Fieri, I assure you :P I actually just liked the name because it sounds proud and sounds almost like Fire.
> 
> Also Reader just got slapped in the face with a plot bomb! If you guys hadn't voted for the reveal with the kids, Reader would still be in the dark for like another thirty chapters. Hmmm, I wonder how Gaster's going to react? :P
> 
> This is the first half of what I've written for today's update, I've decided to cut it at that cliffhanger so I can take my time polishing the next part until it's perfect. And then, there will be a poll :)
> 
> I keep forgetting to link stuff, so here's an edit for you - [Fell!Grillby's theme "On Fire" by Mitzu on Soundcloud](https://soundcloud.com/kuko-jackson-black/on-fire-underfell-grillbys-theme). This is one of the things that inspired me to include him in the first place <3


	31. The Mage.

You didn’t realize you had stood up and slammed your hands against the table until a moment _after_ you’d done it, in response to which you just kind of fall back into the cushioned booth seat, feeling mildly embarrassed. Grillby has come by with a tray of small desserts, and wordlessly sets it down on the table in front of you before scurrying away from the suddenly awkward moment.

Gaster’s eye lights have disappeared from his black sockets in surprise, one long-fingered hand clenching his glass. You’re in shock too, but you’re also anxiously wondering whether you ought to poke him with a stick or something to rouse him. Finally, the skeleton takes a breath, closing his sockets as he brings his other hand up to rest his lower jaw against.

“ **… Yes,** ” he confirms reluctantly. “ **May I ask _how_ you discovered the connection between Determined souls and magic?** ” He sounds _tense_ all of a sudden. Did your epiphany that you’re a mage just ruin dinner?

“Uhh,” you stammer. “I came over to your place when Sans was babysitting Frisk and Chara a couple of weeks ago,” you explain carefully. “I guess they were using magic to cheat at a game? So, they started fighting over it. Frisk spilled the beans to piss of Chara, and then Chara filled in the gaps.”

“ **I _see_ ,**” he muses carefully. His posture is rigid, and everything about him suddenly seems so… _Cold_.

“Is…” you begin. “Is _that_ why monsters always seem to want to hang out with me?” Or maybe that explains why you’re alright with them too? Maybe there was some sort of supernatural kinship going on that you were unaware of?

“ **… Perhaps,** ” he says, his mood warming slightly at the suggestion.

“I thought it’d be the other way around, honestly.”

“ **The… How do you mean?** ”

“I mean… Shouldn’t you hate me?” you fret.

His eye sockets widen slightly in panic as his hands are suddenly reaching for yours, grasping them and running his warm thumbs along the backs of them. “ **My dear, I could _never_ hate you. Why would you even consider such a _horrible_ thing?**” he claims gently. Soft, warm, touchy-feely Gaster is suddenly back from wherever he disappeared to as he attempts to soothe you.

“Well… It _was_ human mages that trapped you guys underground in the first place,” you manage.

“ **While your history is accurate, I do not hold it against every human mage I encounter,** ” he clarifies comfortingly. “ **And, since I am the only monster living that can remember clearly, I can _personally_ confirm that the world before the war was very different than most imagine it to be.** ”

“How so?”

“ **There was a time, a _very_ long time ago, when monsters and humans lived and worked _together_.** ”

The royal scientist explains wistfully how, over a thousand years ago whenever a new human mage was born, they would be adopted by monster society and raised learning about magic, so that they could return to their people competent in their magical ability, whatever that ended up being since it was unique to each person. Oftentimes mages would stay with monsters though, usually women he notes due to developing an attachment with their adoptive monster family, while the men often felt a responsibility to return and help their own kind with their newfound abilities. Monsters refer to determined humans of both genders as mages, but he notes that oftentimes human tribes would refer to the men as shamans and women as witches.

“ **Boss monsters, such as myself, would also be oft found contributing to the success of human tribes, by leveraging our magic to make light work,** ” he adds. “ **Our unique abilities could be useful for _many_ projects. It was an almost symbiotic arrangement.** ”

“That sounds really nice,” you admit.

“ **Mages are not as common now as they were back then,** ” he sighs. “ **It used to be a ratio of one in every fourteen human children would have determined souls, but now… Well, to be truthful, you are the first I have personally met since imprisonment underground, apart from the Dreemurr children of course. I have a theory that humans have adapted to the lack of monsters providing magical aid over the last thousand years, replacing the need for it with advanced technologies. It _would_ explain the current rarity of mages – Magic is just not useful to humans anymore.** ”

“Huh,” you hum a small sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“ **You do not need permission for each question you have for me, my dear,** ” he rumbles mirthfully.

“Could I ask you to, um… Teach me how to use magic?”

Gaster blinks his movable sockets in surprise, then softens to a pleased smile. “ **I would be _honoured_ to.** ”

* * *

 

“… Do return at any time,” Grillby insists, taking your hand in one of his not-quite-there fiery indigo ones.

“Sure thing,” you beam. “Although I have to tell you again, you are a _god_ at cooking steak. I don’t get why you were so particular about that dish?”

He rumbles softly with a hissing chuckle. “… No cows underground,” he replies.

“Oh!” you burst out laughing. “So, this was literally your first time cooking it for a customer?”

The tall elemental gently nods his confirmation.

“Could’ve fooled me. People are going to _love_ it,” you assert.

“… Your feedback tonight has been infinitely valuable, _____,” he praises.

You’re not exactly sure what part of it was, but he was belligerent about not charging either you or Gaster for the meal, so you guess it must’ve been? He’d even boxed up the dessert sampler tray for you, and given you his phone number to call or text with your opinions on them. You’re already sure they won’t be any less amazing than everything you’d already tasted tonight, though.

Suddenly you’re aware of his hot thumb running along the back of your hand, just before he decides to raise it to his mouth and kiss it in parting. He continues to hold your fingers in his for a moment, even after your hands drop. Gaster places a hand on your shoulder for your attention, so the chef releases you as you turn to look up at the royal scientist.

“ **May I escort you home?** ”

“Sure.”

* * *

 

“ ** _This_ is where you reside?** ” Gaster gawks at your aunt’s tiny welfare house, attached on both sides to more of the same.

“Don’t knock it,” you say, fishing the keys out of your pocket and unlocking the door. “It’s a roof over my head, right?”

He hums at that, _clearly_ unimpressed. You chuckle at that. Of course it wouldn’t be up to the fussy standards of the royal scientist.

“Thanks for inviting me out to dinner tonight Gaster,” you grin, sliding your keys back into your coat pocket as you turn to him. “This was really nice.”

“ **You are most welcome,** ” he beams down at you, taking your available hand in his. For once you don’t mind so much. “ **I am pleased to hear that you enjoyed yourself, _____. Perhaps we could… Arrange another dinner, sometime soon?** ”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I’ll text you?”

“ **Then I will look forward to hearing from you,** ” he smiles.

He leans down as he delicately draws your gloved hand upwards to kiss the back of it, and you giggle at the old fashioned gesture before he releases you.

“Aww, get down here you tall dork,” you beckon him playfully.

He seems to hesitate briefly at the order, but the eight-foot-something tall skeleton decides to kneel down for you anyways. You wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug, his hands coming up to hold your back stiffly, as if unprepared for the affection. He relaxes into it after a moment, and as you withdraw you steal a kiss against his cheekbone.

“This _wasn’t_ a date,” you tease, holding his shoulders. “But, if I’m being really honest with myself? If it _was_ , it’d be one of the best damn dates I’ve _ever_ had.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader seems to be under a _spell_ , doesn't she? ;) Don't worry, she's not breaking character, she's just... Well, I don't want to spoil it. You'll see :)
> 
> ***~~~* DATING *****START!***** *~~~***
> 
> Now we're in the fun part of the story with LOTS of voting! Here are the rules: At the end of each 'date', there will be a poll with the following **five** options:
> 
> A: Gaster  
>  B: Grillby  
>  C: Mettaton  
>  D: Sans  
>  E: Plot/other
> 
> The choice for the next chapter is YOURS! Sometimes, after a choice is used I may cross it off to prevent a repeat, or depending on the flow of the story, I _may_ push a plot chapter in, for example, if it isn't voted for enough - Reader's got some other stuff going on that needs to happen as well. I'm still the boss here, so I _will_ get all butterscotch-cinnamon pie on you guys if I _really_ have to :P
> 
> There might _also_ be secondary polls such as:
> 
> Kiss him?  
>  A: Do  
>  B: Do not
> 
> ... Which will translate into me trying to develop the next 'date' scenario into something where she kisses the gentleman she's with. Majority rules, so it could be Gaster, Grillby, Mettaton, or even _Sans_ ;) It all depends on _your_ votes!
> 
> All that said, **here is the poll!**
> 
> A: Gaster  
>  B: Grillby  
>  C: Mettaton  
>  D: Sans  
>  E: Plot/other
> 
> No secondary poll this time around.
> 
> Have fun :) And yes, this is what I decided on instead of a love triangle. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!


	32. The Confetti.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans had a clear majority, so you're getting some one on one Snas time C:

“It was just a little friendly kiss, I _swear!_ On his _cheek!_ ”

“ ** _sure_ it was,** ” he grins, nudging you playfully on your walk to work at the party store. You’re bumped out of step, so you step back in towards him and shove him right back, but it doesn’t even faze him. He laughs at that.

He’s teasing you about kissing his dad after dinner last night. Honestly, what _were_ you thinking? Gaster was still your friend’s dad, and still a… Well, a _millennial_ , you suppose, but not anywhere near the same context people tend to use it these days. Plus, in hindsight, even though he’d behaved very gentlemanly, he was honestly still a bit _creepy_. What had gotten into you?

“Maybe it was the wine,” you muse aloud.

“ **how much did you have?** ”

“Not that much. Or at least, I didn’t _think_ so.” How many of those little samplers had Grillby brought out, anyways? Even the details of the food were lost to a comfortable haze in your memory.

“ **that makes twice now,** ” he hums cheerily.

“Twice? What’s twice now?”

“ **twice that you’ve kissed skeletons when you’re a little drunk, sweetheart,** ” he grins toothily at you.

You pull your scarf up to hide your face in embarrassment. That’s right – you had given Sans a similar kiss just a couple nights ago, after the whole cake incident. Grillby had explained in passing when you’d asked why it was so strong, and he’d simply shrugged and answered that he intended it for _Gaster_ , chuckling at your flushed response. Apparently the royal scientist’s alcohol tolerance was legendary.

“ **maybe i oughta take you out for drinks sometime,** ” he suggests suggestively. “ **see what happens if ya have _more_.** ”

“Sans, _no!_ ” you groan, pushing open the door into the party store.

“ **sans _hell_ yeah.** ”

“AUGH!” you groan. “I’m at work now, so go away!”

“ **y’know i hate to watch you go, but i _love_ to watch you leave,** ” the lecherous skeleton hacks a laugh behind you.

You spin around and swat at him. “Oh, go eat a bag of _dicks_ or something!”

He blinks, then giggles like a school girl. “ **where would i find one?** ”

“Find what?”

“ **a bag of dicks,** ” he shrugs nonchalantly.

You blink as your brain catches up, then you hold a finger up in his face to command him to wait. “One second.”

He seems surprised as you march over to the bachelorette section, rip a bag of confetti off the hook, and throw it at him. He catches it with a red glow, floating it into his palm to inspect it. Then he bursts out laughing.

“ **oh my god this is the greatest thing _ever_ ,**” he wheezes, his cheekbones going scarlet red. “ **how many of these can i get?** ”

“… Are you serious?”

“ ** _hell_ yes. i’m going to prank the shit out of _everyone_.** ”

“Well… What’s out in the bachelorette section is all we have,” you shrug. There’s no harm in selling Sans some confetti, right? “Give me a sec to put my stuff in the back, and then I’ll ring you up.”

Chelsea perks up at you from the balloon counter as you pass it. “Hey _____,” she greets. “Uhh, who’s _that?_ ”

“Oh, that’s Sans,” you say, stepping into the nearby office to drop your stuff off. “Say, do we have any customers right now? I didn’t see anyone.”

“Naw, it’s too cold out. It’s been dead all day,” she hums, sounding bored. “You’re friends with a monster?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Well… Aren’t they dangerous?”

“No more dangerous than anyone else,” you shrug. “So hey, now that I’m here, I hereby release you from your morning watch,” you bow theatrically.

“I can’t leave yet. You’re early, plus my ride’s going to be late.”

“Ah, fair enough,” you concede. “Um, say, do you want to meet my main man Sans?”

“Err… No thanks, _____.”

“Suit yourself,” you hum as you pass her again to meet Sans at the front till.

“ **you getting any more in?** ” he asks delightedly when you arrive behind the counter.

You consider the small pile of confetti bags full of glossy red and pink penises, pointing at each in turn and counting them. “Did you seriously take _all_ of them?” you ask. It looks like everything that was left on the hook.

“ **yeah.** ”

“… Why?”

“ **six to prank with,** ” he grins sharply, golden tooth making an appearance at the far left side of his smile. “ **and one to eat.** ”

“I guess I’ll make a note for Nat that we’re out of stock,” you chuckle. “So did you find everything you were looking for today?”

“ **i’d ask for your number sweetheart, but i already have it,** ” he says, rasping voice dripping with pride.

“Remind me to bust Alphys’ chops for giving out my phone number to literally everyone she knows,” you grumble.

“ **if you want, i’ll prank her first,** ” he beams.

The corners of your mouth are racing away from each other in a wide grin before you can stop yourself. “Okay _yes_ , _do_ that. She’s been harassing me lately about being some kind of guinea pig at her lab? Leave her a ton of ‘fetti dicks to find.”

“ **heh,** ” he smirks. “ ** _gladly._** ”

“Actually hey, I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” you charge playfully.

He snorts. “ **nice one.** ”

“Thanks. So, how come you never told me about my soul?”

“ **ya never asked, sweetheart.** ”

“Yeah, but you’ve known the colour since you _met_ me, right?” you huff, crossing your arms in front of yourself. “Since red means human magic I just figured it would be significant enough to mention.”

The skeleton hums thoughtfully at that, rolling each of his broad shoulders in turn as he cranes his neck side to side. “ **humans don’t usually like to be told stuff about their soul. it makes ‘em uncomfortable. just thought you’d be the same. i wouldn’ve figured you’d be interested unless ya asked me first.** ”

You sigh. “I guess that’s fair.”

“ **’sides,** ” he continues. “ **not every monster knows that humans with red souls are mages. it’s mostly just me, gaster, alphys, and the king and queen,** ” he tells you. “ **say, you might even just wanna keep it to yourself, you know? it could freak out other humans, or make other monsters come after you,** ” he warns.

“Why?” you ask automatically.

“ **for humans, just ‘cause you’re different,** ” he says sternly, and you can’t help but feel inclined to agree. “ **and for monsters, just ‘cause they don’t like the idea of humans with magic. everyone _knows_ how that worked out for us _last_ time,** ” he adds grimly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you agree anxiously.

He fishes a large hand into the pocket of his shorts and withdraws that familiar crumpled wad of cash. “ **you got a total for me sweetheart?** ”

“Right,” you nod, looking at the screen. “Thirty-one fifty-five.”

“ **why is all the shit you sell me always so expensive?** ” he hisses.

“Hey, you _wanted_ the gloss dick confetti. If you want to change to regular boring paper stuff, that’s a dollar ninety-nine and comes in a much bigger bag.”

You gesture towards a nearby display, placed across from the register to prompt last-minute impulse buys. Hanging from a peg is the aforementioned boring pastel hole-punch confetti, priced at a dollar ninety-nine.

“ **i guess i’ll stick with what i got,** ” he considers, pulling a pair of twenties from the wad.

You accept the wrinkled bills, flattening them out a little before putting them in the till and completing the transaction. Gathering his change and receipt you offer them to him, but he puts a large warm hand over yours.

“ **keep the change, sweetheart,** ” he winks.

“What? _No!_ It’s like eight plus dollars!”

“ **i don’t need it, and they pay you shit here anyways.** ”

“Sans take your damn money,” you growl.

“ **naw,** ” he grins, pocketing the confetti and strutting away from you and towards the door.

“I’ll _throw_ it at you!”

“ **you’ll just make a mess.** ”

“You are the _worst!_ Ugh!”

“ **your customer service here sucks. i should tell your boss,** ” he winks.

“Oh, just get out of my store already!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The confetti gag begins. :D
> 
> Who's next?  
> A: Gaster  
> B: Grillby  
> C: Mettaton  
>  ~~D: Sans~~  
>  E: Plot/other


	33. The Pitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mettadate for now, plot next chapter :)

*** Good evening, this is Mettaton. Is this _____’s number?**

Another day, another text message from a monster you didn’t give your number to. You sigh, setting your textbook down to thumb-type a response.

 *** It is only if you’ll strangle Alphys for me for giving out my number yet again,** you reply back.

There’s a long enough pause before his next text that you wonder whether that scared him off. Just as you lean forward to grab your textbook off the coffee table again, your phone buzzes in your hand. Groaning, you fall back into the hard paisley couch as you go to unlock and open your phone once more.

 *** I could not, then to whom would I turn for maintenance?** he texts.

… Do robot monsters need tune-ups here and there? Well… You _guess_ that could be a concern or something. You’re also a little flummoxed that he took your request as an _actual_ request.

 *** What do you want, Mettaton?** you decide to ask.

*** I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me for dinner?**

What the hell _is_ this? First Gaster, now Mettaton? Is your life some kind of otome dating simulator all of a sudden?

 *** No, not interested in dating. Sorry,** you text him back.

 *** It doesn’t have to be a date,** he replies quickly. **I would just like the opportunity to get to know you better.**

And you barely know the first thing about him, beyond him apparently getting off on torture and calling your ex a ‘canvas’. In fact, maybe you don’t really _want_ to know anything more.

 *** I was also interested in running an idea by you,** he texts again when you don’t respond.

 *** What sort of idea?** you ask. Maybe texting each other could work instead of meeting.

 *** Well, to be honest, I have had miserable luck on the surface,** he explains. **Due to human laws I am unable to continue the work that I was very successful with while underground, so I need to find a new niche I can perform in.**

*** Perform? Like acting?**

*** Yes, I had a show I ran for the entertainment of all monsters.**

*** Well, what was it about?**

*** It no longer matters. As I said, I cannot continue it on the surface.**

*** Fine, then what else are you good at?**

*** Can we meet in person to discuss it?**

You groan. That’s about the last thing you want to do. But then again, your eyes were falling off the page already, and there _are_ still a couple hours to kill before you planned to sleep tonight.

 *** How about we meet at Timmies?** you offer. It’s public so you’re not alone with him, and a hot chocolate might get your brain working again anyways.

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“Positive,” the tall robot confirms for you.

“Well, if you change your mind, it’s my treat,” you shrug.

After several minutes awkwardly standing at the counter with a four-armed seven-foot tall robot looming right behind you, your hot chocolate _finally_ appears on the ledge. The cashier gives your metal friend a glance and you a judging expression. You glare right back at her, taking a challenging step forward, which seems to make her startle and find something else to do. Mettaton makes a noise of amusement at that before you lead him over to a table by the window.

“So,” you hum, peeling back the plastic lid. “You said you wanted to pitch something?”

“Yes,” he agrees, taking the seat across from you and folding the uppermost pair of arms on the table in front of him. The other two seems to go under the table, to rest modestly on his thighs, you think? “I wanted to run an idea by you for a new show.”

It seems like he’s practiced this spiel a lot. It actually sounds like a _great_ idea – a talk show for monsters to get to know the surface and its inhabitants better, a sassy mix between Hollywood gossip and educational programming. Not only would that help monsters everywhere learn more about humans, but you immediately latch on to the idea that it could help improve monster-human relations on the whole. Plus, a talk show, run by a _monster?_ Some hotshot celeb somewhere has _got_ to be curious enough to want to appear on it, right?

“I think it’s an _awesome_ idea, Mettaton - you really know how to pitch a cool show,” you nod decisively. “So then, what’s the problem?”

He sighs dejectedly. “No network I approach is interested in hosting it, I’m afraid.”

“Network?” you blink. “You mean, like a _TV channel?_ ”

“Err, yes,” he admits, sounding confused. “Is my approach… Too bold?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you say. What little you’ve heard in passing of the cutthroat TV business suggested the people in charge weren’t exactly the easiest to get along with, but you think the fact that he’s a monster might be working against him, as well. After all, you’ve yet to meet another human that’s as chill about monsters as you are.

His broad shoulders slump in a defeated response.

“But hey,” you perk up quickly. “You _really_ don’t have to approach a big network like that to do a _show_ , you know.”

“… I don’t?” he asks after a beat, metal brows furrowing over his four red and yellow eyes.

“Naw. Listen,” you say, leaning forward and taking your phone out of your pocket, now intent on schooling the robot. “How much of the surface Internet have you seen?”

You unlock your phone and show him a few different apps – YouTube primarily, where you tell him he can sign up for a free account with a Gmail address and post any videos he wants on there. Then, to get people watching his stuff, you point out Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, Instagram, and other social media apps and websites he can use in order to promote himself and his video channel.

“It’s not totally limitless, of course,” you feel the need to clarify. “You can’t copy any part of someone else’s video, at least not without their permission, or your channel can get flagged. And too many flags can get you shut down.”

“I see!” he nods, his mood clearly brightening as he ponders the idea, one of his hands coming up to hold his chiseled metal chin as he considers the whole idea.

“Don’t worry, Mettaton – I’m sure you’re going to be _fabulous_ ,” you grin cheekily up at the metrosexual robot. “If anything, just the fact that you’re a monster will probably make your first video go _viral_.”

“… That sounds _hazardous_ ,” he muses, concerned.

“It _can_ be,” you chuckle. “But trust me, it’s actually a _very_ good thing for an up and coming channel. Don’t worry, I’ll keep in touch and get you up to speed on everything.”

He takes one of your hands in a pair of his suddenly, and you grimace at his cold metal touch. “Thank you, _____ - I mean that _quite_ sincerely,” he insists, stroking your hand uncomfortably with his hard thumbs.

“Uh, hey,” you fluster. “What’re friends for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I decided to get some Metts in here first, and then plot for next chapter, because with the way that I counted them there tied at 34 votes each! It seems like if I give you guys not enough context or too many options, there are ties all over the place. I did not expect that at all XD Also it might be worth mentioning that all the indecisive votes I count as a vote for each, so my final tally is more than the actual votes. I just want to take everything into consideration, you know?
> 
> This is _not_ to say go ahead and try to break ties or anything, just vote for whatever you want to see next :) For every poll I try and make it work, regardless of the results, which sometimes leads to interesting scenarios, and I don't mind the challenge.
> 
> Now, the next chapter, as stated, is going to be the plot chapter, but I would like to run a poll for the chapter _after next_ anyways, because the lucky winner may appear at the bottom of the next chapter as a prelude to the one after. Does that make sense? I hope it does.
> 
> Without further ado, here is the poll!:
> 
> What's next? We just did Metts and will do Plot next, so:  
> A: Gaster  
> B: Grillby  
>  ~~C: Mettaton~~  
>  D: Snas  
>  ~~E: Plot~~
> 
> Also, do you hug him?  
> A: Yes  
> B: No  
> C: Kiss him!
> 
> ... I'm setting myself up for some interesting times with that second poll, aren't I? D:


	34. The Housecall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter you're getting some more Snas ;) But for now, plot!

“Hey _____, wanted to catch you before you leave.”

“What’s up Ames?” you greet your cousin distractedly as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. You don’t look up as you’re busily stuffing your book bag with your textbook and notepad by the front door, getting ready for class this afternoon.

“Mom’s due back tonight I think. She’s back from France with her new man,” Amey informs you.

“Is that where she went?” you acknowledge. “I _was_ wondering.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” she practically groans.

“Is France actually… Nice this time of year?” you ask rhetorically. “I mean, it _is_ winter.”

“I have _no idea_ ,” she admits with a chuckle. “Say, by the way, where _did_ you get those mini cake-things, _____?”

“Oh, did you take one?”

“Yeah, I stole one last night. I’ve never had a cake that _amazing_ before,” she hums delightedly, her cozy socks shuffling across the laminate floor to greet you. “You’ve _got_ to tell me where you found them.”

“You have my new friend Grillby Fieri to thank for that, actually,” you look up at her grinning.

“… Fieri?” she stops in her tracks. “Like, _Guy_ Fieri?”

“Remind me who that is, again?”

“I think he’s some famous chef or something,” Amey explains, taking out her phone to Google it.

“ _Oh_ ,” you fluster. “Uh, pretty sure there’s no relation. Just a coincidence.”

“Well, how can you be so sure?”

“Well, for one thing… Grillby’s a monster.”

She pauses as her face pales. “… A _monster?_ ” she asks, shocked.

“Uh, yeah,” you stammer out.

“Is that… _Safe?_ ” she hesitates, absently sliding her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. “I mean, I _know_ it was only the king who was guilty for murdering those kids, but the rest of them… Don’t seem to be very _friendly_ , you know?”

“Either I must be the exception, or you’d be really surprised,” you joke, laughing weakly as you pull your bag onto your shoulder. “Seriously though, they _really_ seem to like me for some reason.”

She blinks a couple of times, processing that. “Really?” she finally says. “Any idea _why?_ ”

Now, under normal circumstances you would confide in your cousin, tell her everything, but… You have to think this through. Amey has _always_ had a strong sense of justice, so when the news broke that the king was arrested and sent to prison, she’d practically thrown a _party_. She, like most people, wasn’t the _biggest_ fan of monsters, so finding out that you’re friendly with some seems to be messing with her head. That, and the fact that Sans had warned you against telling anyone about your magic potential, and you’re not sure how to answer the question without completely giving the game away.

You decide to be honest… Partially. “Okay,” you sigh, setting your bag back down on the floor. “Full disclosure; Drew’s shown up again.”

“Oh fuck, _that_ asshole?” she seethes.

“ _Yeah_ … I ran into him at the mall the other day, and he tried to grab at me. Some friends of mine chased him off, but he was really… _Aggressive_. And then, he must’ve later found out where I go to school, because he’s appeared there, too. So he’s in full-on stalker mode again.”

“Holy _shit_ , I’m so sorry _____,” she says. “Should we get Paul on his ass?”

“Thanks, and no, that’s okay… Anyways, a friend of mine, Sans – who is _also_ a monster, by the way – was there when it happened, and kind of helped me chase him off. For whatever reason, Sans and his friends are _protecting_ me from my ex, and, uh, at least _one_ other asshole in my class who thinks that attacking me and getting in my business is somehow protecting me from them. Ironic, that,” you add with a chuckle.

“Have they used magic on anyone?” she inquires. You know she wants to know if they’re breaking the rules.

“Nope, just kind of looked at them real scary, or physically blocked them from getting to me,” you explain. “No magic of any kind.” Well, you silently admit to yourself, there _is_ Sans’ tendency to teleport or heal you, but you figure those are harmless enough that she doesn’t need to know about it.

“Huh,” she hums thoughtfully. “Not really what I expected monsters to be like at all, to be honest. Do you actually _trust_ them?”

“So far,” you shrug. “They haven’t hurt me, and I really don’t think they will. If anything they’re kind of nice and… Sweet, at times,” you claim.

“… _Sweet_ ,” she narrows her eyes at you for your characterization of your monster friends.

“Uh, yeah,” you add awkwardly, bringing a hand up to grip at the back of your neck. “Some of them even seem interested in _dating_ me, for some reason. It’s kind of weird, like I’m in the monster version of The Bachelorette.”

“… _What_.”

“I keep telling them _no_ , but they keep showing up places and asking me out to dinner,” you cringe at yourself. “It’s actually getting kind of ridiculous.”

You startle slightly as you hear a knock on the front door right behind you. Oh, that must be Sans here to walk you to school. Amey eyes you curiously as you quickly turn to open it. You know the edgelord doesn’t like to be kept waiting, after all.

It’s not Sans.

It’s _Grillby_.

And he’s offering you a dozen of the _nicest_ roses you’ve ever seen in your entire fucking _life_. The strong fragrant flowers and the smile he’s wearing for you makes your head briefly spin as your face flushes.

Exasperated, you turn to your cousin, who is covering her gaping mouth at the visual evidence of monsters trying to date you. “Do you see what I mean?! Ugh, okay,” you take a moment to compose yourself. “Amey, this is Grillby. Grillby, Amey,” you introduce, as casually as you can manage.

“Um… Hi?” she adventurously greets. “Oh! You’re the one that made those cake things, right? I had one, it was _really_ amazing,” she adds brightly. But she cautiously keeps her distance when he offers his hand in greeting.

“… It was my pleasure,” he drawls handsomely, dropping his hand as he bows slightly.

You decide to alleviate his floral burden, throwing him a conspicuous look. “Purple roses, huh? That’s… _Bold_ ,” you admit. “I’m not sure I feel the same way, but uh… Thanks.” These will make the whole house smell nice for easily a _week_. “How did you get my address, Grillby?” you inquire seriously.

The well-dressed man made of flame hisses a chuckle at that. “… Gaster,” he admits briefly.

“Of _course_ it was Gaster,” you sigh.

“… My apologies,” he says, gently taking your hand in his. “I could not wait to see you again.”

“Hey wait, time out, I’m losing track here,” Amey chimes in, making the shape of a T with her hands when you turn to look at her. “So you know Grillby, a Sans, and now there’s a Gaster? How many monster friends do you _have?_ ”

“A few,” you shrug. “Uh, hey - I need to get to class, would you mind finding a vase for these?” you ask your cousin, offering her the flowers.

“… Sure, I guess. Wow, these smell _really_ strong,” she hums with delight, accepting the bouquet.

“Thanks Ames, I really appreciate it.”

“’ **sup grillby, what’re _you_ doing here?** ”

Amey pauses in her tracks at the new rasping voice. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. “ _That_ pervy asshole is my bud Sans,” you tell her before she can ask, picking up your bag again and hefting it onto your shoulder. “And yes, he’s a huge creepy skeleton guy.”

“ **hey, i take offense to that.** ”

“Which part?” you charge playfully.

“ **the ‘bud’ part, sweetheart,** ” he grins, golden tooth glinting at the side of his smile. “ **you ready for your dumb class or what?** ”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave dismissively at him behind you. “Amey, I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” she agrees, still a bit stunned. Then she looks down at the roses in her hands and shuffles off to the kitchen for a vase.

You turn around to find Grillby and Sans in some kind of quiet standoff, but Sans’ red ring for an eye looks up at you as his smile gets a little less feral. You tap Grillby gently on the shoulder for his attention so you can get past him. He kindly steps out of your way, letting you leave the house and close and lock the door behind you.

“So, uh, Grillby,” you say, still feeling a bit disarmed at his random house call and generous gift of roses. “Um… I’ll text you or something later, okay? As Sans said, I’ve got to get to class. Sorry,” you apologize needlessly.

The white points of flames for his eyes seem to go out briefly, then he laughs charmingly as he takes your hand in his heated not-quite-there fingers. “… I’ll look forward to it,” he beams.

What _is_ it about the fire elemental that makes him so _enchanting_ , you pause to wonder. Is it him, or is it just the fact that his flames are purple and blue and don’t burn you when you touch?

“ **let** **’s get going already, sweetheart,** ” Sans barks, breaking the spell over you. “ **you** **’re going to be late again.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amey knows you hang with monsters now. I wonder how that's going to develop? :P
> 
> I feel like my writing skills have tapered off the more I do these, like my narration and setting descriptors are lacking at times, or just like the dialogue feels clunky and weird. Any feedback you have for me is greatly appreciated - Maybe it's true that I'm getting a little lazier in order to move the story along? Or maybe it's just all in my head? I can't be sure on my own.
> 
> Thanks much! Also yes we're over a thousand Kudos now holy moly. Love you guys :D


	35. The Puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where you kiss Sans.

Sans was pissed the hell off. He knew that stupid look in your eyes all too well. He _knew_ what was going on, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Up until now, it was just _Gaster_ he figured he had to worry about, but he dismissed his concerns after realizing that the royal scientist would _never_ be your type - not only were you weird about his age, but you’d called him creepy at least once. And Sans knew his father’s controlling nature was sure to rub you the wrong way eventually – Both Determination and Perseverance had stubbornness to them, and both of you had a lot of it. Besides, it was only a matter of time before his gentlemanly mask would crack, and the _real_ Gaster would scare you off.

But Grillby… He was an entirely different story.

Sans glowered as he ran down the list of things he had to compete with now. The fire elemental had it _all_ ; Nobility, status, looks, magic… He’s _always_ sharply dressed and is a minor _god_ in the kitchen. Give an Indulgent soul a hundred years and they’ll become a master chef no problem. Give them _six hundred years_ , and you get Grillby. His indigo flames would attract folks from all over, as if he was some kind of oversized _bug zapper_. Women would fight and even _dust_ each other for the opportunity to get close to him, he’d seen it a hundred times over. But apart from casual flings, he’d never given them any mind.

He couldn’t help but be disappointed that you were no different. But this was beyond a fling - He showed up at your door with fucking _roses_.

“So that was a thing,” you say, interrupting Sans’ brooding. “You okay, buddy?”

“ **fine,** ” he grumbles.

“You don’t _look_ fine,” you press.

“ **what** **’s the deal with you and grillby, anyway?** ”

 _Shit_. He didn’t actually mean to say that out loud.

“ _Oh_ ,” you fluster. He instantly hates how dreamy your eyes get when thinking about _Grillby_. “Is that what’s bothering you?” you ask.

“ **maybe,** ” he shrugs, trying to stay casual.

“… I don’t know,” you say honestly. “He’s… Nice. I really didn’t expect him to show up at my _house_ today, though. Or, uh, _ever_. I barely even _know_ him.”

“ **you** **’re holding something back,** ” Sans realizes.

“Okay, yes I am,” you surrender. “I just don’t know how to talk about this with you.”

He blinks at that, confused. “ **me? specifically? what** **’s wrong with talking to _me_ about it?** ”

“Because you like me?” you look up at the towering skeleton accusingly. “I don’t know how to talk about a guy I might like without offending a guy that likes me.”

“ **so, you like him then,** ” he growls lowly.

“See? That’s _exactly_ why I’m hesitant to say anything more,” you frown.

Fuck. He hated that you were interested in Grillby, but he hated the idea of you holding anything back even more. How was he supposed to protect you if you felt like couldn’t tell him anything?

“ **tell me anyways,** ” he demands gently. “ **i wanna know what you see in this guy.** ”

“Sans…” you groan.

“ **come on, sweetheart. i want you to be able to tell me stuff. doesn** **’t matter what it is or how i might feel about it, i don** **’t want you hiding shit from me.** ”

You look up at him with surprise in your eyes. What did he say _now?_ Are your eyes wet? He was just being honest.

“Okay,” you say, smiling. And _blushing_. Sans bit back the groan he harboured for that. “I think, I like him? He’s so… Tender and _sweet_ , and interesting to me. And his food is _amazing!_ I’ve never had anything that tasted that _good_ before! Not even when I was living with my parents,” you gush. What’s that about your parents? “Plus, I kind of can’t get over the fact that he’s literally _made_ out of fire. Indigo fire, no less. When he grabs my hand, it’s _hot_ , but, it’s like he’s not made of anything solid. It’s weirdly enchanting to me.”

“ **you want to date him?** ” he inquires, trying to hide his bitterness.

“Uh,” you fumble. “Does that bother you?”

“ **what ever happened to your no dating rule, or no dating monsters bullshit?** ” he presses, then curses at himself internally. So much for hiding his frustration.

“So it _does_ bother you,” you sigh. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it. I don’t want my stupid crush ruining our friendship.”

He groans at that. “ **forget about that. i still want to know what** **’s going on with you.** ”

“Well, I just don’t want to upset you.”

“ **this ain** **’t _about_ me sweetheart, it** **’s about _you_.** ”

There you go, blushing and fumbling around again. What did he even _say?_

“Sorry…” you mumble.

“ **what are you apologizing for _now?_** ”

“Nothing, I guess,” you smile. “So, that Grillby’s pretty _hot_ , right?”

Your pun surprises him, and he snorts a chuckle despite himself.

“ **not gunna lie, i** **’m hoping these burning feelings of yours are extinguished soon,** ” he grins.

Giggling at that, you nudge him. “Aww come _on_ , not while I’m all fired up!”

“ **keep this up and your future boyfriend won** **’t be the _only_ thing ablaze.** ”

“What, you afraid I’m going to… Put it out?” you tease lewdly.

He shudders uncomfortably at the thought of you and Grillby… _Ugh_. “ **…** **okay, maybe we should stop it there,** ” he grumbles.

“Fine, fine. Way to smother my puns,” you sighs.

He restrains a chortle at that.

* * *

 

Passing through the automatic double doors into the mall, Sans’ arm comes up to stop you in your tracks, forcing you to come to a halt. “ **hey, look up sweetheart,** ” he directs.

As instructed, and too curious to do otherwise, you look up towards the mall ceiling. You narrow your eyes critically at what’s hanging above you, then shift your gaze down to scowl at Sans’ broadly smiling face.

“You can’t _actually_ be serious,” you tell him with a groan. Of course, Sans would take every opportunity he could to mess with you. He just _loves_ making you uncomfortable, and you’re not sure how much of that is his crush, or just him.

“ **that** **’s mistletoe, right? must be left over from christmas,** ” he says, smiling broadly.

“It’s _March_ ,” you groan. Who the shit leaves mistletoe hanging up as late as _March?_

Sans is completely enjoying this right now though. His huge grabby hands grip you by your sides and lock you in place, and you practically growl at him as you struggle. “ **nope, can** **’t leave until we kiss. that** **’s the tradition, right?** ” he grins wolfishly.

“Three things: You’re _not_ my boyfriend, you’re not big on human traditions _anyway_ , and third and most importantly? _No_ ,” you hiss at him.

“ **oh no, then i guess we** **’re stuck here forever,** ” he shrugs nonchalantly, then chuckles at your current predicament.

You continue to try to struggle, finally beating at his chest with your fists. “SANS! I’m going to be _late! AGAIN!_ ” you whine fruitlessly. _Damn_ him! Why does he have to be so crazy _strong?!_ Skeletons don’t even _have_ muscles!

“ **just one little kiss is all i ask,** ” he hums delightedly, leaning in. You instinctively lean away from his massive mouth.

How can you play this? You’ve kissed him on the cheek before, so _that_ should be fine, right? Nice and non-committal. Huffing in frustration, you quickly zoom in and give him a quick peck on his hard cheekbone. His eye sockets rise in slight surprise, then narrow at you, displeased.

“ **you _missed_ ,**” he complains, looming over you as he pulls you into himself a degree further. “ **come on, give me a _real_ kiss,** ” he says, his eye sockets closing slightly as he leans in.

You clap your hand over his mouth before he can do any damage, completely done with his teasing. But then you get an idea.

“Alright. You know what? _Fine_ ,” you sigh, defeated. Besides, you can’t help but giddily wonder what his reaction might be.

His eyes snap open as he looks at you in shock. “ **wait,** ” his muffled voice stammers, bony lips still pressed into your hand. “ **i was just- you don** **’t have to-** “

His protests surprise you, but you’re too determined to back down now. You lean in and plant a kiss on the back of your hand, closing your eyes as you do so. You can feel the heat of his large face so close to yours, and your own cheeks flush in response. His hands loosen their grip as he relaxes, so you let the kiss linger for a moment or two longer. When you finally break it off and open your eyes, his sockets are black and his face is a dark cherry red, pale pink sweat droplets dotting his skull all over. His body is trembling ever so slightly, like his bones are about to fly apart. You take a step away from him as his hands drop from your sides, proudly surveying the damage you’ve caused.

He raises his hands to run them down his face as he attempts to compose himself, cheeks getting lighter, but not losing the red colour completely. His fingers come together and meet at his chin, his red ring in his left socket slowly flickering back into sight, then focuses on you as he grins sharply.

“ ** _next_ time,** ” he drawls lowly. “ **keep your fuckin** **’ _hand_ out of the way, sweetheart.** ”

“Who says there’s _going_ to be a next time?” you chuckle.

“ ** _tease,_** ” he rasps. But you know there isn’t an ounce of malice in it. The flustered skeleton is barely holding himself together.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go already, I’m late for class.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I supposed to surprise you if I tell you how a kiss vote is going to go down? :P Also I'm really digging the fire man and hope you guys tell me to write more of him soon _wink wink_.
> 
> Also, thanks you guys for your advice on the last chapter, which I know kind of fell flat. Someday eventually I may go back and clean it up, but for now I'm looking to forge ahead. This one definitely reads better to me. I love Sans & Reader's dynamic, they're easy to write together.
> 
>  
> 
> Poll for next chapter:
> 
> A: Gaster  
> B: Grillby  
> C: Mettaton  
>  ~~D: Snas~~  
>  ~~E: Plot~~


	36. The Plea.

“… _____?”

“You’ve got to help me!” you plead dramatically.

“Nerd what are you doing at my apartment?” Undyne presses, sounding bored.

“Uhh… Is that a problem? I mean, you, Alphys, and Chara have done it to _me_ before,” you protest. “Also, do you know how many busses I had to take to get here?!”

“How did you even get my address, punk?”

“Sans,” you tell her honestly.

“And… Why aren’t you bugging _him_ like you normally do?” she questions.

You sigh. “Game night with Frisk and Asriel, Settlers of Catan I think. They seem to have roped Papyrus into it, too. The looks on their faces were kind of _intense_ , so, I didn’t ask too many questions about it.”

“Ugh,” the fish woman groans in irritation.

“Look I _really_ need your help, okay? Please let me in?” you beg.

“And… What do you need help with, exactly?”

“I… Want to text a _boy_.”

“… Well, shit. Get in here, we’ve got beer.”

“Thank you!!” you bluster appreciatively.

“Chara and Alphys are here too, by the way,” she tells you as you step inside.

You pause sliding out of your boots. “Oh, crap. Am I interrupting something?” you have to ask.

“Just girls’ night. Don’t sweat it,” she shrugs. “Hurry up and get in here, we were just watching Death Note.”

Of _course_ they were. “Well, sorry to interrupt anyways,” you apologize.

“You’re not interrupting shit,” Undyne barks with a roll of her eyes, amused at yet another apology from you. “Alphys had to take a phone call so we’re paused anyways.”

You sigh and continue shuffling off your boots, then start unwrapping your winter gear from yourself to stuff it in the cramped hall closet. You can’t help but notice the sheer number of leather jackets Undyne has. Some of them are even studded.

“Oh hey _____!” Chara bounds over to greet you.

“Hey,” you smile back. It’s been a while since you hung out with the princess.

“What’s up?” she asks, eager to make small talk.

“Not much,” you reply awkwardly.

“So, who’s the boy? And why do you need help exactly?” Undyne interrogates, reappearing with two opened beers. You take one off her hands as she offers it to you, then follow her into the large livingroom as she sits down right in the middle of their long ivory couch. She stretches her long muscular arms along the back of it, while you and Chara take your seats on either side of the mermaid sergeant.

“Well,” you flush. “He’s a monster, and, uh, it’s been a _while_ since I’ve dated.”

“A _monster_ , huh?” Chara grins devilishly at you. What’s that about?

“How long is a _while?_ ” Undyne crooks an eyebrow curiously.

“… Two years,” you admit.

“It’s been _two years_ since you last got laid, punk?” Undyne guffaws.

You glance apprehensively at the fourteen year-old in the room. “Uh, can we talk about this here with Chara? I’m suddenly very uncomfortable with this.”

“Don’t worry, I’m cool,” Chara assures you, though you don’t feel very reassured. “I watch R-rated movies all the time,” she grins broadly. “So who is it? Is it somebody tall, dark, and handsome?” she teases.

“Well, tall for sure, and definitely handsome,” you blush in spite of yourself. “But as for dark? Kind of hard, considering he’s his own light source,” you wink.

“Grillby?” Undyne asks. You nod giddily.

“Wait… _REALLY!?_ ” Chara gapes.

“Uh… Something wrong with that?” you have to ask.

“Uhh… I’m going to the bathroom!” the fourteen year-old announces, darting away to the hallway as quick as her lanky legs can carry her.

“That was weird,” you point out.

Undyne shrugs, offering no explanation for the princess’ sudden emergency departure. “So what have you got so far, punk? Let’s hurry up and text your boy or something.”

* * *

 

Sans’ phone rings, breaking the tension surrounding the board game.

“Who is it?” the ambassador’s soft voice asks.

“ **it’s chara,** ” he groans. He hangs up the incoming call and slides it back into his pocket, only for it to start ringing again. He heaves an annoyed sigh at that, withdrawing his phone again.

“ **IF SHE IS SO INSISTENT THEN IT _MUST_ BE IMPORTANT,** ” Papyrus muses.

“ **i _highly_ doubt that,** ” Sans replies. He hangs up the call again, and opens up a new text message to the high-maintenance princess. *** what do you want** , he demands textually.

 *** Wow, complete words! Did I catch you at a good time?** she teases.

*** busy rn. go away.**

*** Listen, _____’s over here at Undyne’s. Why is she texting Grillby and not you?!?**

Suddenly she has his full attention. The skeleton growls lowly. *** i dunno. whats goin on?**

*** I’m spying on them from the bathroom right now.**

He blinks his sockets at that. The bathroom? _Really?_ *** r you fukin serius kid,** he texts.

*** I’ll let you know what they say.**

“ **SANS, YOUR PHONE SUDDENLY SEEMS HIGHLY DISTRACTING FOR YOU. I SUGGEST YOU PUT IT AWAY IF WE ARE TO _WIN_ THIS BATTLE,** ” the royal guard captain barks suddenly.

“Settlers of Catan isn’t a battle,” Frisk reminds him. “But, uh, Sans, it _is_ your turn.”

“ **right,** ” he grumbles. “ **hey az, ya got any sheep?** ”

“Th-that’s not funny,” Azzy softly protests.

“ **i wasn’t joking. i need sheep to build a thing.** ”

* * *

 

“Where could I even invite him out to?” you fret, wrinkling the lower hem of your sweater with both hands as your phone sits on the couch in between you and your mermaid friend. “A restaurant is out because anything put in front of him would probably be _way_ inferior to what he could cook for himself. Plus, he’s literally blue and violet flames, so anywhere dark is automatically out, like laser tag or the movie theatre, and anywhere indoors might still just freak people out.” Oh, and how could you forget that he’s a monster? Most humans weren’t super alright with that still.

“I think you’re overthinking things,” Undyne rightly charges you. “What’s he in to? Any idea?”

“I don’t really know,” you hum. “He’s all kind of… Aristocratic, I guess? Maybe he likes fancy stuff, like dancing or plays at the theatre.” He did push a bunch of really tasty wine at you when you were over at the restaurant for dinner.

“Hey now, dancing isn’t a terrible idea,” Undyne admits, stroking her scaly chin with a hand. Then she flashes a serrated grin at you. “If you’re just looking to get laid, rubbing against each other’s crotches all night is one way to get a fire started,” she lewdly proclaims, followed by a rasping snicker.

“I’m _so_ glad Chara wasn’t around to hear you say that,” you flush heatedly.

“What do you like about him, anyways?"

* * *

 

*** She thinks he’s cute and likes that he cooks for her. You should cook something for her next time!**

*** ugh** , is all he has to say to that.

*** Come on, stay determined! You can’t lose her to that walking firepit >.<;**

*** all i can cook is hotdogs. that aint exactly a five star meal.**

*** Well, she says that she likes it when guys get domestic or something. Just try it anyways, maybe it doesn’t matter WHAT you make so long as you make it for her!**

“Sans why do you keep looking at your phone?” Frisk asks. Then they gasp. “Wait wait _wait_ \- are you texting a _girl?!_ ”

“ **SANS, YOU ARE WASTING _EVERYONE’S_ TIME WITH YOUR CELLULAR _FRATERNIZING!_** ” Papyrus hisses angrily.

“Who is it? Do you like her? Is she cute?” the ambassador demands, the questions coming rapidly. Sans quickly acknowledges that he can’t even begin to answer them lest he give the kid the wrong impression. Fortunately, he was pretty decent at dodging.

“ **could everybody stay off my case for like a minute that’d be great _thanks_. hurry up with your turn flower power,** ” he grumbles, changing the subject.

* * *

 

“Chara’s been gone for a while, do you think she’s okay in there?” you ask, suddenly concerned about the princess’ earlier disappearance. Maybe she’s on her period? Poor girl.

“If she hasn’t left the apartment, she’s probably fine,” Undyne dismisses. Then she gets a faraway look in her eyes, and chuckles to herself. “Heh, especially since I got Alphys’ help installing that crazy puzzle lock on the liquor cabinet.”

“Wait, what?” you stammer.

“Forget about it, nerd,” she waves a hand dismissively. “You going to text this guy or what? We don’t have all night.”

“Right! Right,” you agree, picking up your phone and opening up his contact. “Uhh… Do you think it’d put him off if I started it with ‘Hey hotstuff’?”

“Well, why not?” she shrugs.

“I just think it’d be kind of punny, but I don’t know his stance on that. Puns can make or break a relationship, you know,” you hem and haw.

“Pfft, you think too much, nerd. Start typing,” the fearsome sergeant orders.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” you surrender easily.

 *** Hey hotstuff, what’s going on with you?** you text. And then instantly regret it. Is there a way to unsend a text? _Shit_. It sounds so lame in retrospect.

You nearly throw your phone in surprise when it pings with a response a beat later.

 *** Good evening _____, I am merely preparing the restaurant to open on Monday,** Grillby replies.

 *** Oh crap, did I catch you at a bad time?** you immediately fret.

 *** Not at all,** he assures you. **How are you this evening? May I ask your opinions on the desserts I left with you?**

At least he’s more talkative by text. That’s good though, that means he’s interested, right?

 *** They were amazing of course,** you tell him. **One of my cousins actually took one and she really liked it too.**

 *** I am pleased to hear it,** he replies.

You twist your mouth in a grimace, sparing a glance towards Undyne. “Um, okay… Now what?”

“Ask him out, you punk!” she urges you on, cackling.

 *** Hey, would you like to go out sometime maybe?** you wince at yourself after hitting send.

 *** I would be delighted to.** Really? With _your_ dorky human ass? **What did you have in mind?** he asks.

 *** I was thinking maybe dancing? Like, ballroom dancing.** Oh great, you realize a moment too late. Now you need a dress of some kind.

*** Do you have a preferred venue?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XD Sorry this took so long. I wasn't super inspired for what the first date with him would actually be like (Literally my note was 'they cook at the restaurant' - really me?), but then I remembered some of the comments wanted more Chara, and many commenters were conflicted over the OC going out with someone not Sans first, so I decided to try and write to both of those sentiments. I also totally meant for Alphys to stroll into the scene at some point but it didn't happen as I couldn't think of any lines for her :/ Oh well.
> 
> Next chapter is the actual date! Besides dancing, how far do they take it? Pick your fluff!  
> A: Hand holding  
> B: Hugging  
> C: Cuddling  
> D: Kissing (He'd initiate it if this is chosen)  
> E: None of the above because _Sans_
> 
> [Edit]: Oops! Sans does not appear if you pick option E, which is what I think a lot of people are expecting. I just put that there because you guys ship them super hard, lol. E just means no additional physicality between them. Sorry for the confusion!


	37. Rant (Non-story)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is old, old news now, so if you're new to the fic and just cruising through, you can skip this chapter. Basically it's just a long rant about Reader's characterization and a lot of signs and signals I felt that people were missing based on feedback I'd been getting in the comments.**

I need to get some things off my chest today. Work is stressing me right out, my dog has single-handedly ensured that I’ve gotten less than four hours of sleep tonight, when I was already exhausted, and I’m eating like garbage because of how little time I spend at home. But most relevant of all, some of the comments on this fic are really starting to grate at me, so I need to get in front of them before they discourage me from writing entirely. Most of you are fine, but there is a small percentage, whom I won’t outright name, that are really getting under my skin (And honestly you probably don't even intend to, that's just how my brain is wired is all).

I posted [a rant on my tumblr a while back](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/152821618520/heres-the-deal-with-nyd-underfell) that was similar to this, so this is an extended version because there’s more ground I want to cover this time around. First, let’s rehash some stuff:

1) This is _not_ a simple story. I’m not a fan of linear plots that go from A directly to B, because it’s not interesting to read. When I read a story, I want there to be cliffhangers where I’m not sure the characters will make it. I want to be surprised, shocked, and awed. I love twists and turns, unexpected things, and generally being kept on the edge of my seat. I want to see emotions get out of control, and people to have conflict, and then find ways to work through that conflict, because to me _that’s what makes a story good_. This is _not_ a simple or linear story, so stop taking it at face value please and thank you.

2) What’s the name of the story again? Not Your Doll? Does that communicate that Reader has no agency of her own and can’t make her own decisions without her hand being held? Does that indicate that Reader is a prize to be fought over and won? Does that tell you that she can be treated like property, to be owned or thrown away on a whim? **No. It doesn’t.** Now, is this story is tagged with Objectification, Identity issues, and Emotional/Psychological abuse? Yes. Yes it is.

This is a main theme of the story because not only is it my own personal baggage on display (See chapter 13 of the original Not Your Doll for the shit about my ex, plus chapters 35, 92, and 107 for the shit about my parents). My whole life has always been about people trying to manipulate me or treat me, quite literally, like little more than a _thing_ they could push around when they wanted something, or neglect when they were done, just because I was born a decently pretty girl. This is a big issue that doesn’t stand out in society, but I know it is not unique to me at all – Women all over are discredited on a daily basis by other men _and_ women, either just because they’re good looking, or just because they’re women.

It even happens sometimes today now that I’m pushing thirty, and I _still_ get the random asshole who looks at me funny because they think my gender and profession don’t line up. Plus, I’m still somewhat pretty I guess, so I couldn’t possibly know _anything_ and must actually be an _airhead_ that _blew_ someone for my swanky IT job, _right?_ Sales people call me all the time, and when I tell them I’m the manager for my department I can _hear_ the sharp increase in their pitch and volume out of surprise at my feminine voice. They stay nice and stick to the script, but I’m no fool, I _know_ it’s because they have the same preconception that women can’t be IT. These assumptions are abusive and poisonous to an individual, and can embitter them towards people and the world at large. For the longest time I hated it anytime someone commented on my physical appearance, because it felt like they were devaluing me as a person by addressing only my body, not me as an individual human being with all the same complexity, intelligence, and emotions that they themselves have. I’m so tired of being treated like I’m less than human, and this fic, and the other ones that spawned it, is sort of my vent art for these feelings and issues.

So, when people tell me that the Reader OC is an immoral bimbo slut for not going for the ‘obviously correct choice’? That is about _ninety different kinds_ of triggering for me. She does not _belong_ to him. She is a person and is plenty capable of making her own decisions, and has the right to make the ‘wrong’ one as she so chooses because again she is a _person_.

3) This was originally tagged as SansxReader, and that’s the direction that it’s going. I know some new people have been commenting asking about that, so just to clear it up once and for all, as the story progresses the Reader OC will _eventually_ wind up with Sans. Please see the very first tag in the additional tags section. The other shipping tags were added to tease people about this particular arc we’re in the middle of. If you’re looking for a FellGasterxReader, MettatonxReader, or a GrillbaexReader that goes on for longer, this is not that fic. I apologize if you feel that makes this arc less fun since it’s predetermined that these other side relationships won’t last, but I might write some of those after this is done, since people have been asking about it. But, that all depends on my finishing _this_ story first :/

4) This entire arc is all about character development, and I have at least three pages of notes dedicated to just this arc alone. The whole point of it, apart from just trying to briefly play around with alternate pairings a little bit, is to introduce conflict into the story and create character development from there. And, it’s not only Reader getting development here, it’s the monsters as well – Gaster’s one smooth motherfucker with dastardly plans for Reader’s fertility, but he hasn’t actually _done anything_ yet, so I’m using this to express his character more. What’s Mettaton’s deal, anyways, and why is this tagged as Papyton if they’re not even in a relationship? Well, vote for it and you’ll find out! If Grillby’s a boss monster, then what is his special ability, and why is Reader so enthralled by him? The two are closely related, so keep reading and you’ll have the answer really soon. Finally, Sans is currently _not_ the kind of partner Reader sees herself with, so he’s getting the character development treatment as well, if from the sidelines. He’s got a couple lessons to learn about Reader and about healthy relationships in general before he can properly court her. He is learning though – Notice the sudden lack of assgrabs? :) I am _all about_ that subtlety, folks.

5) Please stop trying to guess future plot. Not only does that mean that, if you get it right, I feel discredited because then you think that I’ve taken _your_ idea and ran with it when it was in my notes all along, but when you guess it wrong and anticipate that it happens anyways then you’re just going to be disappointed. I have this huge long story all planned out. Also, there’s a lot of theorycrafting that I can’t directly respond to because it would turn into huge plot spoilers very quickly. My hands are severely tied if I want to make this a good story, so please stop trying to guess plot or prompt me for spoilers, alright? This is a huge chunk of story to get through D:

6) The voting doesn’t actually have a huge impact on the story. As I said, I have a lot of plot that I’m trying to work through for a very complex story, so if you vote for some fluff with the Grillbae for the short-term, it’s _not_ going to have a long-term impact on the eventual relationship with Sans. With only a couple of exceptions so far (The bonus chapter poll early on that revealed Gaster’s intentions, and the vote on Derrick’s long-term role), what you are changing with the votes are minor details I either can’t decide on myself, or that I want you to decide on because I’m interested in what you think. I have all the control over the story since I’m writing it, so sorry guys, but apart from clearly marked exceptions, you’re not influencing much. I even have a spreadsheet of the alternate choices and they always come back to the main plotline, even if in very different ways. The votes are more about challenging me as a writer, and also serve as a way of communicating to me what you want to read. So, if you want to read fluff? Vote for it. It’s really that simple.

7) Last but not least, the definition of harem: When people started asking if this was a harem fic, I was thinking _literally_ in terms of multiple sexual partners, so I’ve been saying “no, this is not a harem fic – Reader is serially monogamous”. I was not actually fully aware of the anime tropes that MellenCollie’s comment last chapter covered in detail, so my bad on that. I guess this _would_ be some type of harem using those definitions. I don’t read tropes because I prefer to ignore them and do my own thing (Or I specifically write counter to them if I _am_ aware of some), so I didn’t look it up. I brainstormed this part of the story up as a sort of otome dating simulator type thing (I’ve been playing a lot of Mystic Messenger okay?), but each mini-arc does have a planned-for endpoint.

All that said, if you’ve enjoyed this story thus far, then _please_ have faith in me to keep it enjoyable? I feel like I’m getting second-guessed a lot in the comments on the last few chapters, when really I just wanted to have some _fun_ with this. I thought you guys would have fun with it too, and I already had a stated voting system in place so you could participate, so I thought it’d be fun for you too. This is a fanfiction written for your entertainment _and_ mine, so don’t take it quite so seriously, okay? :)

Finally, I’m actually very busy with work right now and announced a hiatus on tumblr, so I’m announcing that again here too; I work for a law firm and we have a trial starting Monday that will last several weeks which will consume _all_ of my free time – In fact, I’m heading to work in a few minutes, on a Saturday, to continue setting up some stuff for it. I don’t anticipate having a whole lot of time for writing as a result, so there might be nothing new posted in any of my fics until Christmas (However I might surprise you – I can also see myself getting frustrated with life and writing something anyways as a sort of mental break). Thank you guys for reading, for all your kudos and comments, and for sticking with me so far. This story isn’t anywhere _close_ to done yet – I anticipate easily another hundred chapters to come – but it _will_ continue, just as soon as work stops being super crazy and I can get some alone time with my laptop for my rampant sinning ways :)

Love you guys, even if some of you bug me sometimes, I still love ya, you know <3


	38. The Dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Butterscotch Pie'd the vote results. Sorry about that E voters, but as I added to my note last actual chapter, Sans does _not_ show up, which is what I think you were expecting but I just can't deliver that here. So, I went with the next highest vote of D, but made it kind of awkward for lols.

“… A _dress?_ ”

“Yeah, do you have one I could borrow?”

“ _You_ want to borrow a _dress_ ,” Amey states flatly, her disbelief written all over her face. “Are you drunk?”

“What? _No_.”

“Is there a possibility you may _become_ drunk, in the near future?”

You run both hands down your face as you groan. “I asked a guy out, and uh, it’s a slightly formal affair. Can you help me out or what?” you plead. Chara had been chomping at the bit at the thought of taking you shopping again, but if you could produce an acceptable borrowed alternative, maybe you could get out of it.

“Yeah, I mean I _guess_ ,” Amey relents. “You’re just a lot more, um, _curvy_ than I am. I don’t know how it’ll fit.”

“One way to find out, right?”

“My style’s also a _lot_ different from yours,” she adds. Yeah, you did kind of have the monopoly on pajama pants and geeky t-shirts in this house, after all.

“I think I might live,” you smirk, shrugging.

“Well,” she hums. “Alright.”

“You’re a lifesaver cuz,” you sigh, relieved. “I really mean that. Could I, uh, also maybe ask you to help me with my hair, or is that pushing my luck?”

“ _I_ get to play with _your_ hair?” she blinks. “Is it my birthday?” she smiles broadly.

“This is kind of a one-time thing,” you clarify. “Well, at least for now. I don’t know what’s going to happen after tonight. I’m honestly just thankful that he seems to like me too.”

“You must really like this guy,” she observes. “Can I ask who it is?”

“Um,” you fluster. “It’s Grillby, the fire elemental you met the other day.”

“The monster chef guy who brought roses?” she clarifies. “You know, I never thought I’d get sick of the smell of roses, but _damn_ are those _strong_.”

“Purple roses are like that,” you grin. “Hey, Amey, question for you - Are you okay with me dating, or _trying_ to date, a monster?”

She presses her lips at that. “I’m not sure yet,” she answers honestly, thumbing through her closet. “Everything about monsters to me screams ‘ _danger_ ’, but if they’re good to you, then I guess they’re okay? Oh, I haven’t told mom or Paul yet, by the way - about your monster friends, I mean. You should tell them soon though, so they’re not surprised.”

“You’re seriously the best, cuz.”

“He’d _better_ not hurt you,” she growls protectively. “You deserve to be happy.”

“… I don’t know what to say, Amey, other than thanks.”

“You can say you’ll let me do your makeup too,” she grins.

“Okay, _that_ might be pushing it,” you balk.

“Just light makeup! Lipstick and a little around your eyes,” she grins playfully, shoving an armload of dresses your way. “Try these on and pick one, then we can argue all about it in the bathroom.”

* * *

 

“… You look absolutely _radiant_.”

How fortunate that Gaster had found you, and doubly so that you could be so breathtakingly gorgeous. The impecunious clothes you’d worn before had been replaced with a long shimmering gown, and your hair was bundled up with plaits, curled strands hanging down to frame your soft face. How he wanted to trace them with his fingertips. He briefly debated with himself whether he might be the one under a spell.

“Thanks,” you blush. “You, um, don’t look too bad yourself.”

He’s too fascinated to move, eyes hungrily drinking in your luminous beauty for a moment too long. Late winter’s chill suddenly runs through him and he remembers himself. Turning, he opens the rear door of the black car, gesturing for you to step inside.

“… My lady,” he invites.

“Geez, I can’t remember the last time someone called me a _lady_ ,” you joke, flustering.

You take his chivalrous invite to get into the car, and Grillby dutifully waits to close the door behind you once you ensure the skirt of your gown won’t get caught. As he rounds the cab to get in the opposite side, he smooths a hand down his silken vest to ensure it’s free of wrinkles, before letting himself in to sit alongside you.

* * *

 

This smooth motherfucker _really_ knows his steps. It’s so nice to not have to lead for once, you think. Fancy dancing was not a bad call. You glide across the floor together like a perfect pair.

You had called the charity ball organization in advance out of consideration for them whether or not you could bring Grillby. They were confused over the phone when you went on to explain that he’s a monster, and though he’s literally made out of fire, wouldn’t actually burn anything. The lady you got forwarded to put up some serious resistance, but eventually relented when you said that not only would you take responsibility for him, but also offered to make a large donation to their cause. That stings a bit, but you _do_ have a steady, if part-time, job, plus there _is_ that investment maturing in early June to look forward to. You just hope idly that future dates with him won’t cost quite so much.

As for Grillby, it’s absolutely _intoxicating_ being so _close_ to him. Can fire elementals wear cologne? Or does it combust or something? Because he smells _good_ up close, though you can’t quite place the scent. He’s also warm, _very_ warm, which is nice with your thin borrowed dress and the oddly chilling temperature in here. Did they leave a door open, or do they have the A/C cranked for some reason? In any case, if it wasn’t for him, you’d probably have to get your coat back from the front check-in to keep yourself from shivering. But instead you can just bask in his smoldering sexiness.

However, you can’t help but feel every set of eyes in the place on the pair of you, and many couples have even vacated the dance floor to stand at the sides of the ballroom and stare. You’re already way out of your comfort zone doing all of this for a guy.

Wait. _For a guy?_ _Why_ were you doing this again?

“Excuse me,” a woman interrupts your thoughts as she speaks into a microphone. It chirps loudly as she decides to move the mic stand away from the large speaker nearby, giving it a couple of experimental taps once it’s repositioned. “Can everyone hear me alright?” she asks.

There’s a murmur of agreement on every side of you, and you and Grillby drop your hands away from each other as you turn towards the small stage. A brief pang of awkwardness has you defensively gripping your opposite elbow.

“Thank you,” she says. “We have about an hour left before they kick us out, so I wanted to announce the final donation totals for the night. Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that we have raised over three thousand dollars for the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario from your generous donations tonight! Thank you very much!”

You start clapping with the room as it erupts in applause. Really? Only three thousand bucks? Wow, these people are stingy as hell.

“Thank you everyone,” the woman continues. “If I may, I would also like to thank our top donor for tonight! Ms. _____ _____, would you please come up to the stage?”

And there goes the last shred of comfort you’d been hanging on to tonight. Grillby turns to look at you in surprise as you step behind him to hide, gripping the sleeves of his dress shirt and burying your face into his back. Five hundred bucks should _NOT_ have been the top donation. It was for a children’s hospital for crying out loud!

“… I suppose she might’ve left early,” the announcer says as she scans the room, chuckling softly. “Well, can I ask for a round of applause in her absence?”

The room sounds like it’s filled with thunder, and you find yourself struggling slightly to breathe.

“Grillby can we go? I want to go now,” you mumble into him, completely mortified.

“… Of course,” he softly crackles.

* * *

 

“Okay, confession time: I’m… Not _actually_ this person.”

Grillby looks down at you, confused. “… Whatever do you mean?” he’s compelled to ask.

“I mean… I guess I can look the part, dance the steps, and just seem really charming sometimes? But,” you sigh softly. “This isn’t _me_. This isn’t what I’m _really_ like. I’m sorry that I’ve misrepresented myself to you.”

He’s not sure how to respond to that. You seem to take the silence as a cue to continue.

“I like video games, computers, watching old cartoons and cheesy anime, and trolling the Internet,” you tell him. “I like bad food about as much as I like good food, reading sci-fi novels and fanfiction, and I don’t actually dig the whole princess treatment thing. I’m way more of a nerd, to be totally transparent with you.”

Was this important? He hums softly as he considers your words.

“I just,” you carry on. “I did all this because I think I thought that’s what _you_ liked. I didn’t really stop to think of _myself_ , or of what you might think of me as a result. And, now I guess I’ve kind of screwed up, just because I wanted you to _like_ me or something. … Geez, when did I get so _stupid?_ ” you scold yourself.

At that, he stops walking. You startle slightly as you bump into his outstretched arm. He moves it to grip you by the shoulder, turning to hold you in each of his hands.

“… You _captivate_ me,” he asserts, and enjoys the red flush that races to warm your cheeks, passing a thumb over each of them as he indulges in the close proximity. “So do not dismiss yourself as such, my lady. I find you absolutely _fascinating_.”

The more he showers you with praise, the warmer your face gets, and he suddenly finds himself wanting to steal your warmth away as winter’s cold jaws continue to nip at him. Maybe, if he could convince you to join him…

“Hey! _Monster!_ ”

He grumbles softly as he’s forced to redirect his gaze to two suited humans approaching from behind you. His hands are forced to drop as you make a sound of annoyance and turn towards the men. From their clumsy gait and antagonistic auras, Grillby can already sense where this is going.

They wanted a fight. Here is a chance for him demonstrate his considerable power before you.

… _Perfect_.

“The _fuck_ do you guys want?” you spat, stepping in front of him and crossing your arms, guarded.

His flames quickly ebb and reignite in surprise. What are you doing? You’re _defending_ him?

“We just want you to step away from that monster, ma’am,” one of the human pests asserts. “My buddy and I don’t think it’s proper for a lady like you to be leaving with one of _them_.”

“His _name_ is Grillby, and I will leave whatever fancy party I _want_ with _whomever_ I want,” you confidently claim.

The fire elemental taps your shoulder gently, somewhat at a loss. “… _____,” he softly whispers your name. “I can dispatch with them.” He was not too thrilled about this reversal of roles. After all, _he_ ought to be the one to fend them off. A demonstration of combat prowess was always a surefire way to make women _swoon_ , after all.

“Grillby, leave the trash to me,” you whisper back, determined.

“Why’re you with him, anyways?” one of the humans asks. “There were plenty of guys at that party, you know. My friend Jim here,” he says, gesturing to the other who can barely hold himself upright. “ _Really_ likes the look of you.”

You turn and grip at the front of the fire elemental’s vest. “Sorry, boys, but I’ve already claimed the hottest guy around,” you smirk.

Fantastic. _Puns._ As soon as you release him, Grillby softly sighs in slight annoyance.

As much as he would _like_ to intervene, demonstrate a show of force to these hooligans, you seem _belligerent_ in dealing with them yourself. That, and he can hardly get a word in edgewise. Before he can fully appreciate what has transpired, your shouting seems to encourage their retreat. You resolved the conflict without _any_ violence, he acknowledges in irritation, just like the young ambassador. Do all mages hold pacifistic ideals?

“Are you okay?” you turn to look up at him.

He nods quickly, folding his arms to conceal a chill running through him.

“Oh geez, are you _cold?_ I thought you might be, you know, the _opposite_ ,” you fluster. Then you start unbuttoning your long winter jacket.

“… Why are you removing your coat?” he finds himself asking.

You pull your arms out of the sleeves and offer it to him. “So you can warm up,” you tell him.

He could _not_ accept a lady’s jacket under _any_ circumstances. If he had thought to bring one, he’d have offered it to you already. He did not anticipate that you would ask to walk back to your house, after all, though he is pleased that you were looking for ways to try and prolong the evening.

“… I cannot,” he declines.

“Dude, _take it_.”

He shakes his head. “… Your health is more fragile than mine.”

“ _Please_. I’m Canadian, and it’s only about two degrees right now. I _know_ I’ve got thicker skin than you, if only for the fact that I actually _have_ skin,” you smirk.

He chuckles at that, but continues to firmly refuse the offered jacket. However, this only seems to upset you more.

“Damnit Grillby,” you huff. “You can relax with the macho crap. Either you take my jacket, or we both stay standing here until we freeze to death.”

You were surprising him in a number of ways tonight. He sighs heavily, finally accepting the coat. If it would make you happy, then, so be it.

You smile at that, clearly satisfied with your victory. “You won’t be able to button it up with your broad shoulders, but it should at least help, right?”

* * *

 

You sigh as you reach the front step of your aunt’s house. Was the date over already?

“… This has been a tremendously lovely evening,” Grillby purrs behind you as you fight to unlock the door. That confirms it, the date is over. You sigh wistfully at that.

You turn in place as he takes your coat off of his shoulders – geez, he looks really cute wearing it like that, you realize – and accept it from him, quickly pulling it back on and basking in the warmth he’s left behind.

“Will you be okay in this cold?” you ask. “I hope you’re not planning on walking yourself home in this weather.”

The indigo flames of his face shift, as if he’s raising an eyebrow. “… Not unless you care to join me?” he asks seductively, crooking his flaming head to one side and smirking heatedly at you.

The suggestion catches you off guard, sending you blushing and snorting a laugh. “Maybe next time,” you flirt back awkwardly. “Seriously though, are you going to be okay?”

“… Do not fret, I will hail a cab shortly,” he confirms for you.

“Okay,” you hum. “Well, I guess this is goodnight.”

You freeze in place as his warm ethereal hands come up to hold your face. He seems to press his face into yours, his hot breath brushing against your cheeks as something not-quite-there presses tenderly against your mouth. What is this? It’s such a strange feeling. He pulls away after a moment, caressing your face with his thumbs as he cautiously studies your expression.

“Oh!” you gasp as realization strikes. “That was a _kiss!_ I’m so sorry. I was… _Not_ at all prepared for that,” you fluster.

He chuckles at that, seemingly unoffended, although you definitely feel like a dork for not reciprocating. The whole he’s-made-of-fire-so-he-doesn’t-feel-like-a-solid-person _thing_ was _really_ going to take some getting used to.

“I’d say ‘let’s try that again’, but I think there’s been enough awkwardness in the last three minutes,” you fret. “Can we maybe try this whole thing again sometime? Is it possible for a do-over?”

“… Of course, my lady,” he says humbly, inclining his head in a slight bow. You hide your chilled face in your hands.

“Okay, first thing; Can you, uh, stop it with the ‘my lady’ stuff? It’s a little weird for me. My name works pretty great, you know.”

He seems surprised by that, but sizzles a soft laugh in any case. “Then, _____, I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go :) Long chapter with perspective switching, lots of little hints as to why this pair may not work out :P There are a ton of ideas I had for this mini arc but since a lot of people have been frustrated, felt that I should try and get as many of them out there as quickly as possible so this can wrap up quicker. I may be following a mostly pre-determined plot, but I'm also trying to pay attention to what you want to read, too.
> 
> And thank you again everyone who commented on the last chapter, it really means a lot to me. I want to reply to each and every single comment individually, but apart from not having a lot of time these days, I also need to be in the right headspace to do so, you know? Please have patience with me.
> 
> Next chapter poll, now that we've finished off the extended Grillbae date (Whoever came up with that is genius, I call him Grillbae in my notes like everywhere now lol):
> 
> A: Gaster  
>  ~~B: Grillbae~~  
>  C: Mettaton  
> D: Snas  
> E: Plot


	39. The Hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot won, with Sans & Metts tied for second place. So you're also getting some Snas time, with some Metts next chapter :)

“You’re kicking me out?”

Aunt Deb looks apprehensively at her newest boyfriend – Marc, as he was just introduced, who is using his body to block the doorway – and then at your cousin Paul. “I, um, think it would be best…” her soft voice trails off as she grips her elbow with her opposite hand.

“Look, _____,” Paul grumbles, running a hand along the back of his neck anxiously. “People are _talking_. About the, uh, _company_ you keep,” he says, glancing behind you at Sans. “Word’s gotten out, even my old ‘friends’ are telling me about it. We just don’t want our home to become a target, you know?”

As much as you would like to argue, you know it would be useless. Paul used to run with a gang back in his teen years, and you know he’s still got contacts within the senior members of the group. If he’s heard anything from them, it’s because he’s under threat.

That still doesn’t mean that this situation isn’t total _bullshit_ , of course.

“This is total _bullshit!_ ” you snap. “Monsters are actually pretty decent people once you get to know them! Why is it that _I_ _’_ _M_ the only person I know actually _giving them a chance!?_ ”

Aunt Deb waffles uncomfortably behind her lover and her son. Clearly she didn’t want any part in this. This must’ve been a joint effort between Paul and Marc.

“I’m sorry, _____,” Paul apologizes, sliding his hands in his jeans and giving a meek shrug. “Maybe if circumstances were different… I can’t let monsters on our doorstep put mom and sis in danger, though. This isn’t a good neighbourhood.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Ugh, I _get_ it… It’s just, _so_ fucking unfair.”

A large bony hand grips your shoulder gently from behind you. “ **you got anywhere to go, sweetheart?** ”

You cross your arms anxiously in the cold. “Not really.” Maybe there’s a women’s shelter in town. …Or, a park bench.

“ **... i see. stay here for a sec.** ”

Wait, what is Sans doing? Before you can turn around to ask him, he’s already vanished into thin air. “Damnit what is he _doing?_ ” you hiss at the empty air.

“Whoa, what just happened?” you hear Paul ask.

“Sans can teleport, I have no idea where he just went though. Uh, hey,” you begin, turning back towards your cousin as you shiver. “I don’t suppose I can get my stuff, at least?”

“We’ll bring it out for you,” Deb nods generously.

“… Thanks.”

She offers a small smile before turning into the house and disappearing from sight, presumably to collect your things. A tap on your shoulder has you wheeling around in place again. Sans is offering you a swipe card of some kind. “ **got you a room at a place near your school,** ” he explains. “ **just until we figure something else out.** ”

What!? “Sans, I can’t afford to live in a _hotel!_ ”

“ **that** **’** **s fine,** **‘** **cause you** **’** **re not paying for it.** ”

“ _SANS!_ You _can_ _’_ _t!_ ”

“ **there** **’** **ll be time to bitch about it later, sweetheart,** ” he grunts. Then he nods towards Paul. “ **hey man, are ya just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help your mom get _____** **’** **s stuff together?** ”

“Right,” you hear Paul say behind you.

Your eyes feel hot as you glare up at Sans. You’re aware of Paul and Aunt Deb piling your stuff on the doorstep behind you, but it’s like you’re frozen in indecision and rage. It’s infuriating to know you’ve lost your crash space over something so _stupid_ – the very common prejudice against monsters. It’s enraging to know that it’s affected your only real bubble of family and deprived you of them. Not to mention that the idea that it’s actually legitimately necessary just _boils_ your blood.

And the worst part of all of this? Is the fact that, not only can you not justify being angry with Sans for his generous help, but that him doing such a thing _in front of them_ should honestly make them think twice about monsters, and that it probably won’t affect their opinion of them anyways.

Eventually, the door closes and locks behind you, and Sans casts a discerning red eye over the pile.

“ **…** **this is _everything_ you have? seriously?** ”

A short shelf with a few odds and ends including your DVD and games collection, your laundry basket, your school bag and textbooks, and a set of old blankets your aunt kindly gave you to keep. You look over the pile briefly.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I don’t really hang on to a whole lot of stuff.”

“ **…** **alright then, let** **’** **s go.** ”

In the blink of an eye, you, Sans, and your things are all transported to a hotel room a few kilometres away. You take a moment to survey the small room. It’s crowded with furniture as hotels often are, with two queen-sized beds, nightstands on either side of them and one in the middle with a lamp, alarm clock, and plug sockets for charging your phone. There’s a barely three foot wide space between the ends of the beds and the TV stand, which has a pretty standard 32inch TV and DVD player set up, and there’s a small fridge beside it, with a small table and set of two chairs towards the far end of the room, and a large curtained window taking up most of that wall. Back towards the entryway is a door to a small bathroom of course, a small closet, and luggage stand. Sans has already arranged it so your laundry basket and book bag are on the luggage stand, and your shelf is pushed up against the window, having teleported everything into position automatically. The sentimental blankets are still folded up, sitting on the foot of the far bed.

“ **here i was worried the place was going to be too _small_ ,**” he hums.

“It’s actually more space to myself than what I had before, I guess,” you reply, feeling a bit defeated right now.

“ **if you need laundry done you can stuff it in a bag and the cleaning lady** **’** **ll take it. the fridge has some snacks and soda in it already, and if you ever need anything else, just call the front desk for service. it** **’** **s all covered.** ”

“Geez, uh… Thanks, Sans.”

“ **don** **’** **t mention it, sweetheart.** ” He raises a brow at you. “ **so, is b5 night officially ruined, or** **…** **?** ”

“Oh!” you fluster. “Uh, yeah, we can still do that I guess.”

“ **cool. set that up, i** **’** **ll call for some grub.** ”

* * *

 

It’s only after the first DVD has finished and half of the pizza has been devoured that you realize something very important.

“Oh, _shit!_ ” you hiss, reaching over and smacking the skeleton on the sternum where he’s stretched out on the bed next to you. “You bought me dinner!” Room service goes on his card, so _he paid for it_. That crafty _asshole!_

He grins broadly and waggles his brow bones at you, thoroughly enjoying your ire. “ **seems i did.** ”

“Well, there’s still no way I’m sleeping with you,” you refuse, folding your arms defensively and scooting away from him on the bed.

He snorts at that. “ **relax, sweetheart, i ain** **’** **t going to try anything.** ”

You’re alone in a hotel room with a huge, powerful, skeleton monster, who’s clearly indicated he has both romantic _and_ sexual interest in you. You’ve just spent the last three hours eating pizza, watching Babylon 5, and joking back and forth. How is this _not_ a date? You feel a bit entrapped right now.

“ _Really,_ ” is all you can think to retort with.

“ **well** **…** ” he grins slyly, leaning in towards you. “ **there is _one_ thing i** **’** **d like to try.** ”

Fuck, what’s he going to do _now?_ You instinctively cover your mouth and pull your legs to your chest, curling up into yourself as much as you can. He slowly opens his mouth and makes a very long, very _exaggerated_ fake yawn, stretching both arms high above himself, and as he relaxes… You find a bony hand on your opposite shoulder, pulling you into his side.

You blink at that. “… That’s _it?_ ”

“ **…** **are you complaining?** ” he asks, snickering at the perplexed look on your face.

You think on it a moment, then shrug in his arms as you slowly stretch your legs out again. Can friends cuddle platonically, when one has a crush on the other? Is that a thing? The question bothers you, but, really, this honestly isn’t so bad. “I guess this is okay,” you eventually concede. “Provided this is _all_ you had in mind,” you add in warning.

“ **this is it,** ” he nods. “ **you** **’** **ve had a rough day sweetheart, and i don** **’** **t want to be that asshole.** ”

“Well,” you hum, leaning your head against his clavicle. He’s warm, and weirdly comfortable to lean against, you have to admit. “… Okay. I’ll trust you, Sans,” you tell him.

His hand seems to grip your shoulder a degree or two tighter for a second at that, then swiftly relaxes as he starts rubbing his thumb against the area, as if he’s worried the brief reflex had hurt you. It’s comforting.

“Oh, I should probably put the next DVD in, huh?” you realize. You lean forward to get it but he gently pulls you back. “SANS!” you yelp in surprise. Suddenly you’re wondering whether you ought to take back that trust thing.

“ **don** **’** **t you dare move,** ” he says lowly, then cackles as he raises a hand and works his magic. The previous DVD pops out and floats over to the case, glowing with red magic the whole journey there. Then the next DVD is released from the case, and goes for the reverse trip, before he picks up the remote to skip through the menus.

"... Okay," you smile. "I guess that's more efficient."

* * *

 Sans wakes up the next morning to soft snoring and hair invading his nasal passage and eye sockets. What the fuck? He hisses a number of curses under his breath.

It takes him a second or two to register where he is and whose tit he’s got hold of, but when he looks down and sees that it’s _you_ , he… Panics. Just a little bit.

And by just a little bit, he jerks backwards and falls off the bed, hitting the back of his skull loudly against the corner of the end table on the way down. The alarm clock bounces off onto the floor just missing his face and smashes to pieces. Your phone slides off the very next moment, swinging on the charging cable, and he jerks away reflexively. It resembles one of the swinging blade death traps his brother lovingly referred to as ‘puzzles’ in that brief moment way too much.

Having now completely lost the element of stealth, and hearing you start to shuffle around on the bed above him, he groans in pain as he sits up against the side of the other bed, and starts rubbing the back of his head.

“Sans?” you mumble tiredly. You’re still wearing your clothes from yesterday. You must’ve fallen asleep on him around the same time he did. “What’s going on, are you okay?”

“ **…** **yeah,** ” he grumbles.

Shit, he _really_ shouldn’t be here right now. What the fuck were you going to think of him spending the night with you like that? Sure, it was an accident – a tired, and real fucking _cozy_ accident – but this didn’t exactly line up with his ‘platonic bud she trusts’ role in this relationship.

That word hits him like a ton of bricks all over again. You said you _trust_ him. What the fuck _was_ that?

You still look tired. Suddenly you startle and then look down at yourself to make sure you’re decent, then yawn as the panic fades. “Any idea what time it is?” you ask lazily, brushing your fingers through your hair as you fight a yawn.

He picks up the display from the alarm clock next to him, then throws it aside when it’s dead. Next he grabs your phone and clicks on the screen.

“ **almost ten o** **’** **clock,** ” he answers. “ **shit, guess i** **’** **m late for work,** ” he scolds himself. Oh, Gaster’s going to be _thrilled_ about _that_. Maybe he’ll cool it when he tells him he spent the night with you, though? Another small step towards knocking you up, right? He cringes at the thought.

“Oh, I guess you better get going then, huh?” you hum.

… Has it just not hit you yet? He worries anxiously about your reaction, but you’re just not reacting. And your soul’s looking a hell of a lot better since it faded when you got kicked out. This should be a big deal. He stomped _all over_ your precious boundaries. _Why aren_ _’_ _t you reacting?!_

… Is it because you ‘trust’ him? Could you honestly think he’s so _innocent?_ He wants to laugh at that. Hah! As _if._

“Do you need a shower first? You’re all sweaty,” you comment.

Yeah, because getting naked in a tiny hotel room with a hot-as-fuck human chick sounds like a _great_ idea right now. No really, it _does_ , he’s just dead certain that won’t end well. For the friendship thing, of course. Fuck, his head is all over the place. He runs his hands down his face to wipe away the faintly red magic leaking through his porous skull. Would it be too conspicuous to grab a pillow for his lap right now? Yeah, you’re not stupid. He knows that’d give him away, which would probably just make things worse.

“ **i need to** **‘** **port home for clothes anyway.** ” _Yes_. Yes, that is the safe move here.

“Makes sense,” you nod. “Okay, guess I might see you later before school?”

If he can sneak out of the lab, he thinks. “ **not sure. we** **’** **ll see.** ”

“Alright,” you smile, seeming relaxed. “Oh!” you gasp suddenly, then burst out laughing. Why are you laughing? Was there a good joke in here somewhere? He wishes he knew, because your outburst is doing _nothing_ to help his anxiety right now in this whole situation.

“ **what** **’** **s so funny, sweetheart?** ” he asks.

“You bought me dinner,” you giggle, wiping a tear from your eye. “And we _slept_ together. Like, _actual_ _sleep_.”

He blinks his sockets at that, then bursts out laughing himself. “ **guess you kept your word after all, huh?** ” he grins.

“Guess so,” you snicker.

When he notices your nipples poking out from your shirt, he takes that as his cue to run home. “ **well, later sweetheart,** ” he says, waving from his spot on the floor. He doesn’t even give you the benefit of a reply before vanishing from sight.

Back at home, he sighs as he leans against the inside of his door in the relative safety of his room. He looks down as he brings his large hand out in front of him, flexing his phalanges as if giving the air a squeeze. His face flushes as lewd thoughts parade through his mind, imaging what he held in his palm just a few minutes ago.

“ **…** **hehehe. _nice_.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :P For the time being, you now live in a hotel room.


	40. The Views.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I lied and wrote some filler/lead up to the actual Mettadate. In my defense I think you'll enjoy it. NEXT CHAPTER IS HOTBOT TIME.

“ **You did not return _home_ last night, and are _late_ to arrive this morning. _What_ is the _meaning_ of this, _Sans?_** ”

Sans cringes under Gaster’s gaze. The Royal Scientist’s sockets are black in anger as he looms over the perspiring skeleton.

“ **heh. uh, i didn’t know you cared, boss,** ” he stammers nervously.

“ ** _Enough_ with your _nonsense_. _Where were you?_** ” he demands tersely.

Well, for once, the truth might actually help him. “ **i was with _____,** ” he replies.

Gaster straightens, his eye lights returning as he raises a hand to his jaw, considering Sans’ words. “ ** _Truly?_** ”

“ **yeah,** ” he shrugs.

“ **… _Well?_** ” he asks, tone demanding. “ **What transpired? _Elaborate,_** ” he orders.

“ **uh,** ” he starts. Now this is the part where he might get his skull caved in. Better have that healing magic on standby. “ **her family kicked her out, so i set her up in a hotel. then we hung out, had dinner, and watched her favourite show. then, uh, fell asleep.** ”

Gaster blinks hard as he processes that, then he pinches at the bridge of his nose in mild frustration. “ **You _fell_ asleep _._** ”

“ **… yeah.** ”

“ **Implying that you are _not_ using the colloquial version of ‘sleep’, in that you ‘slept together’, but that you actually _rested_ , instead,**” the tall scientist deduces aloud.

“ **right.** ”

“ **You had her in a hotel room, _alone_ , and you did not think to _leverage_ the situation? Are you _mentally defective?!_** ” he hisses, sockets going black once again.

Sans shuffles his feet in place, waiting for a hand to strike him. Then he gets a thought. “ **it, uhh, wasn’t a wasted evening, y’know,** ” he attempts nervously.

“ **… I am waiting for you to _explain_ that assertion,** ” he rumbles impatiently.

“ **_____ told me she _trusts_ me,** ” he informs the boss.

Gaster seems surprised by that. So surprised, in fact, that the usually talkative skeleton doesn’t seem to have any words left to say. He settles into a lean against the adjacent wall as he considers the implication of the human trusting his subordinate.

“SSSAAAA _AAAAAAA **AAAANNSSSSS!!!**_ ”

Saved by the shrieking lizard bitch. “ **uhhh so i guess i better go see what alph wants,** ” he mumbles, before ‘porting over to the next room. “ **‘sup alph, what do you need?** ” he greets cheerily.

She is throwing papers around in a fury, then her eyes lock on to him, consumed by rage. It’s a good look on her, he figures.

“YOU- **_YOU-_** AUGH _I DON_ _’_ _T EVEN HAVE THE APPROPRIATE_ RESPONSE _TO THIS!!_ **THIS!!!** ” she howls, then throws something small and bright pink at Sans before returning to shuffling around papers. It hits the front of his jacket and bounces away harmlessly, but he already knows what it is. “I’m _supposed_ to be putting together a report on the passive extractor results for Gaster, and THESE! These PERVERSE _SHAPES_ are littering everywhere on my desk! Between the pages of my report, mixed in with my paperclips, EVERYWHERE, _EVERYWHERE!_ And I KNOW it’s _YOUR_ **FAULT!!** ”

Sans giggles himself into a fit, wiping at some red tears leaking from the corner of a socket while Alphys turns redder every second. “ **maybe that’ll teach you not to get too _cocky_ ,**” he rasps, then cackles at the lizard woman. “ **’sides,** ” he adds. “ **you _know_ i’m supposed to proofread it before gaster sees it, _right?_** ”

She huffs and puffs, and he _knows_ it’s only because he’s right. “Well, _you weren_ _’_ _t here_ this morning, so I thought _I_ _’_ _d_ take the initiative,” she grumbles.

Of course. Anything to earn points with the boss. “ **not how it works, alph. when you get your shit straightened out again, leave it on my desk. i’m off to check on a thing,** ” he tells her, turning to leave the room.

“Wh-WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO _DO_ ABOUT THE CONFETTI!?” she complains.

“ **whatever you do, don’t throw it away. i paid good money for that shit,** ” he grins. Hmm, wonder if they’ve already restocked? He makes a note to ask _____ before she heads off to work tonight.

Alphys lets out a primal scream behind him as he leaves the room and closes a heavy security door between him and the rest of the office. He leans against the door briefly, and could almost swear he can still hear her through it.

Then he bursts out laughing again.

“ **hehehehe. get dicked on.** ”

* * *

 

This was _really_ generous of Sans to do.

You spend the whole shower thinking about it. He didn’t have to do anything, and just left you to figure something out on your own. You could’ve called Undyne, see if she had a spare room, but then, that was across town. You could’ve tried another friend’s place? Or, well, if you had other friends. Oh, what about Chara and Frisk? Maybe they could put you up? You haven’t actually _met_ Queen Toriel yet though, so, there’s no telling how _that_ would go. Point is, there still had to be other options out there that didn’t involve spending so much money on you. Was there even a checkout time? How long could you really stay here?

He just… Knew what you needed, right when you needed it, and got it figured out for you. He did it without asking you first – he made the decision for you, which is _annoying_ , but… Still, he must _really_ care about you. It’s kind of nice and flattering to think about.

Then again, you couldn’t miss that very _distinct_ handprint around your one breast in the shower – a clear impression of large bony phalanges pressed into skin over a long period of time. Does he just get gropey in his sleep? You groan at that. At least nothing else had happened – admittedly he was good about keeping his distance otherwise. You’re dating a fire elemental, damnit.

Oh, speaking of which, you should text Grillby and see what he’s up to, maybe plan that second date. Though, thinking about it, you feel a little bad that you never asked how the opening of his restaurant went. Yesterday _was_ the big day, after all. Uh, whoops.

After getting dressed and brushing your hair, you unlock your phone to find a couple of text messages waiting for you already.

*** Oh my god, I am SO SORRY!! I didn't get home until late last night so I wasn’t around to talk them out of it :C**

It’s Amey.

 *** Heya cuz, don’t worry about it too much,** you text your reassurance. **Not sure there was much you could do.**

*** I heard Sans got you a hotel, is that right? Are you okay?**

*** Yeah, I’m okay. It’s not a bad place. Kind of nice to have a bed for once, lol. Uh, not that I’m complaining.**

*** You were never a burden, _____. Also, just wanted to say that was really sweet of Sans. He’s not a bad guy. I think you might have a point with the whole monsters are just people thing, you know?**

*** That’s what I keep saying!** you text back, smiling.

Even if no one else ever understands, at least Amey’s _trying_ to. That’s something, right?

 *** Good morning beautiful,** a new text message greets you warmly. You check the sender. It’s Mettaton. Beautiful? You scrunch your nose up at that.

 *** Hey what’s up Mettaton?** you casually text in response.

 *** I wanted to share some news on the YouTube front,** he replies.

*** Oh cool, how is that going?**

*** Well, it seems I am getting a number of offers to license my video. I wondered if I may gain your valuable input on that?** Wait, what?

*** Really? How many views did your video get?**

*** It appears to be at over three hundred thousand now.**

You let out a small panicked shriek before mashing in a reply. *** THREE HUNDRRD THOUSAND!?!?!**

 *** Is that a lot? I have seen other videos with far more,** he states practically.

 *** Oh my god, you’re going viral you doofus!** Okay, okay. Calm down, _____. What to do, what to _do!?_

*** Is that so?**

Once you start breathing normally again, you work out a new text. *** Don’t accept any offers right now. Do you have a laptop? Come meet me after I’m done school.**

* * *

 

“ **… he’s coming _here?_** ”

Sans was less than pleased about your new plans with Mettaton.

“Is that a problem?” you challenge, sitting on the end of the hotel room bed.

“ **i don’t like it,** ” he growls. “ **i don’t like you being alone with him.** ”

“Well, why not?” you press. You’re trying to be understanding, considering what they went through, but you’re getting a little bit tired of the monsters just implicitly not trusting each other. “He needs help managing his newfound fame, and this room’s fairly private. Besides, I’m reasonably certain he won’t hurt me. Hey, if you’re so worried, why don’t you stick around and hang out?”

“ **can’t,** ” he grumbles morosely. “ **got work tonight. speaking of which, i thought you did too.** ”

“I called in. Nat wasn’t too happy about it, but I figure this is a pretty big deal,” you shrug. “She actually managed to trade my shift with someone else last minute, so I’ll be working tomorrow night instead.”

“ **ugh. you’re set on this, aren’t you?** ”

“Pretty much,” you grin.

“ **then… give me your phone for a sec,** ” he demands, beckoning with a hand for it.

Raising an eyebrow at that, you slide your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. “What for?” you have to ask before handing it over.

He floats it out of your hand over to himself. _Rude_. “ **i’m going to set up my number as an emergency speed dial or something. 7267, can you remember that?** ”

“Maybe. Does that spell your name or something?”

He grins. “ **it might. _call_ if it’s an emergency, text if it’s _not_ , okay?**”

“… What are you so worried about? What do you think he’s going to do to me?”

“ **if it’s all the same to you sweetheart, i’d rather _not_ think about it,** ” he grunts. “ **ugh, wait. how do you set this shit up again?** ”

“Give it here,” you say, rolling your eyes and holding out a hand for your cellphone back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone mentioned in the comments last chapter that The Dickening (tm) hadn't started yet, so while I was thinking 'Hey, both Amey and Gaster are going to have immediate reactions to this whole hotel scenario', I thought that this would also be a good time to start it.
> 
> No poll for physical affection, 'cause neither Metts nor Reader are into it here. You'll just have to see what happens :P


	41. The Video.

“ _Dude!_ This is _insane_. There are e-mails from legit new sites wanting a story on you. I mean, I’ve watched the video a dozen times, but _whaaat?!_ How did you get so much attention so _quickly?!_ I just don’t get it.”

You’re thumbing through his inbox on the laptop, looking over every single e-mail that isn’t obvious spam. Lots of offers to license the video, but you can’t find much on the supposed companies making the offers, lots of hate mail that promptly goes into the trash after you skim the first line or two, and then the aforementioned interview requests. His video wasn’t _that_ huge of a deal, you figure – Just a short thing introducing himself and that he wanted some questions to answer in his next one.

He chuckles charmingly at that, flicking his stiff wiry hair aside as his four red eyes refocus on you. “Perhaps it’s my natural charms,” he suggests. He’s definitely more animated than he was before. The spotlight seems to do _wonders_ for his confidence.

“Or… _Wait_ ,” you hiss, now scrolling through the comments. “A ton of people want to know about your ‘human friend’ you mentioned,” you charge, raising an eyebrow at him. “Anybody _I_ know?”

“Why, it’s _you_ darling!” he grins.

You sigh. “Of _course_ it’s me.”

“And that is why I would like _you_ to be in my next video!”

“… _Whaaat._ ” You instantly start shaking your head in the negative. “No, nuh-uh, no way. Sorry.”

He kneels down next to the bed where you’re sitting with his laptop on your knees, gently taking your hand in a pair of his. Whoa, wait, is he going to _beg_ you?

“I must _beg_ of you to reconsider, _____,” Mettaton softly purrs. Yup, that’s where this is going.

“It’s not a good idea,” you frown. “I’ve already had a _lot_ of trouble from people for hanging out with monsters. Why do you think I’m here anyway? My aunt kicked me out because of me hanging out with Sans. And that’s not even considering the assholes at my school. I just have to think - what’s going to happen next if I appear in a _video_ with one?”

He pouts as he mulls over your words, then his thin metallic lips spread out in a slight smile as his cold metal thumbs start working circles into the back of your hand. You can tell it’s intended to be comforting, even if it kind of isn’t.

“Have you considered that it might assist humans in _accepting_ monsters?” he suggests brightly.

“You mean, like be an ambassador or something? Isn’t that Frisk’s job though? Why not ask them?” you ask.

“Not _quite_ like an ambassador,” he tsks. “More like… An advocate, perhaps a spokesperson?”

“I’m really not up to the task,” you gently protest.

“Just one guest appearance? _Please_ , gorgeous? It would mean a great deal to me, and I trust that you would make a favourable impression as an unofficial representative for monsters and monsterkind.”

You look into those four red and yellow metal eyes boring holes into your face with their wanting expression, surprised at yourself for even considering it. Eventually, you groan loudly, rolling your head with your eyes before you can meet his gaze again. “… _Fine_. I guess I can at least read you the questions.”

He squeezes your hand gently in his while his other pair of hands surprises you by clapping loudly. “ _Splendid!_ I will set up the camera, where would you like to sit?”

“Wait, we’re filming it _right now!?_ ” you panic.

“But of _course!_ Why delay?” he says, as he practically launches to his feet to go for his bag.

The thought of being on camera in a tiny hotel room with a metal robot monster makes you feel apprehensive… And a bit self-conscious. “Ugh. Okay, just… Let me brush my hair or teeth or something first.”

“Where should I set it up?”

You turn and look at the room. “Uh, point it towards the bed – but not like, at the middle of it. I’m thinking we’ll kneel on the other side of it and rest our arms up on it.” You raise your elbows up to try and give him an idea of what it would look like.

“That’s a rather _unique_ posture, is there a particular reason why?”

“Yeah – It’s so you don’t get hundreds comments on my rack. Kneeling behind the bed like that, my chest will be hidden from view.”

He seems to look you up and down, and you fold your arms across your body apprehensively. Is he checking you out? “Is that a concern?” he asks innocently. Huh, maybe not.

“Trust me, it’s the Internet; It’s a concern.”

* * *

“Good evening, this is Mettaton!”

“And I’m the human friend.” You wave half-heartedly at the small camcorder on the other side of the bed you’re leaning against on your forearms.

Mettaton looks over at you discerningly. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, darling?” he hums.

“Naw,” you shrug. “I’m good. So, let’s start with the basics; Mettaton, who built you, and why?”

“The esteemed Doctor Alphys of Hotland created my body,” he boasts proudly. “It was an experiment to bind a monster soul to a manufactured body. In fact, _I_ was the project that enabled her to work for the king alongside the royal scientist.”

“Oh neat,” you note curiously. “I didn’t actually know that. How are you powered?

“Magic, and a fair amount of electricity,” he answers casually, then grumbles. “The hydro bill for my flat is honestly _outrageous_.”

“That’s Ontario for you – hydro rates are insane here,” you nod understandingly. “So, have there been more robot monsters created since, or is it really just you?”

“Just myself, for now. I _have_ tried talking my cousin into the transformation, but,” he sighs sadly. “He does not appear to be interested.”

“Say, what kind of monster were you _before_ the transformation?”

“Hmm… At this time, I would prefer not to say. It is a _little_ embarrassing.”

“That’s fair,” you nod. “Remember – you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

“I _very_ much appreciate your consideration darling,” he winks at you.

You fumble with your notebook under his heated gaze looking for another question to answer. “Here we go, next one; Can you transform into other things? Like a truck, a jet fighter, or a… _Cassette player?_ Seriously? Who _asked_ this?”

* * *

"Dear Mettaton, can you shoot lasers out of your eyes? Or other parts?"

Mettaton grins giddily at the thought. "I _must_ submit that as a feature request the next time I see Alphys."

"Wait, seriously?"

He claps his hands together, both sets. "Humans are _so_ creative, it's _delightful!_ "

You gasp as you read the next question, then you have to do your best to stifle a giggle. "Dear Mettaton, have you ever invited somebody to bite your shiny metal ass?"

His eyes widen at the implication as he looks at you. “... Are you offering?” he practically purrs.

You fluster as you lean away from his sudden invasion of your personal bubble. “… It’s a Futurama… You know what? Nevermind. You’ll get caught up next pop culture night. Next question: Are you fully functional ‘down there?’ Err, wait. You don't have to answer that."

"I _do_ possess the parts, but they are not functioning as of right now," he answers confidently.

"... Um. Seriously?"

He shrugs jovially. "It's on my to-do list, I suppose!"

"Augh no I don't want to be thinking about your ' _to-do_ list'," you cringe. “Okay, moving on…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIC'S NOT DEAD AND NEITHER AM I!! Sorry for that long wait _wow_. December 4th was the previous update. My epic bad!!
> 
> I got so blocked up trying to think of Mettaton and Reader's dialogue, when it was kind of obvious what they would be talking about? I mean, basic questions about himself, right? Not sure why it was so difficult, but today I decided to just ask my bestie for some, and that gave me a launching off point to get this finished. What I _really_ should've done was just asked _you_ guys in the comments of the last chapter for questions for Metts, but it totally slipped my mind. Aaaand then almost a month went by. Heh, whoops.
> 
> Anyways, it's poll time again! Who's next?
> 
> A: Gaster   
> B: Grillbae   
> ~~C: Mettaton~~   
>  D: Snas   
> E: Plot


	42. The Advocate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fillery chapter before stuff happens.

*** Mettaton just left. I’m okay, thought you might want to know since you were so paranoid earlier.**

*** rly? oh thank fuck,** Sans immediately texts back.

 *** lol Were you waiting by the phone? That was prompt.**

*** … maybe.**

You giggle a snort at that, snuggling into your fluffy hotel bedsheets a little more. He’s so protective of you, it’s kind of cute at times.

* **can i call 2 b sure?**

* **Sure, why not?**

Your phone immediately starts going off in your hand. ‘Grabby Hands’ is calling you. Sliding the accept call cursor with your thumb, you put it to your ear.

“Hey,” you say.

“ **hey,** ” he replies. Then he sighs loudly.

“What was _that?_ A sigh of relief?” you chuckle.

“ **maybe.** ” You can hear the grin on his voice. “ **it’s good to hear your voice.** ”

“Yes, Sans, I’m totally and completely fine,” you confirm again for him. “Nothing happened, we just made a video for his YouTube channel tonight. He _was_ kind of a huge _flirt_ about it, but-“

“ **wait, _what!?_** ”

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing with his channel yet, so he invited some questions from people to answer. I was just reading them off for him,” you explain.

“ **and he seriously didn’t touch you?** ” Wow, he sounds so serious.

“Um, no?” you blink. “He kept his distance, we’re cool.”

Another, more exaggerated sigh of relief comes from the other end of the phone. “ ** _good_. that’s good.** ”

“Sans, what did you honestly think would happen?” He sounds like he expected to find out you were murdered or something, but whatever Mettaton was famous for in Underground, he _seems_ harmless now.

“ **i’d rather not think about it sweetheart,** ” he evades. “ **so, hang on; was appearing in his video a good idea? you get _enough_ crap from your ex and classmates about hanging out with monsters as it is,** ” he asks.

 “I’m not sure,” you shrug. “But, he made a good point about showing that monsters and humans can get along, you know? The words he used were ‘spokesperson’ and ‘advocate’, and I decided that I don’t overly mind being that for you guys. I _know_ a lot of people aren’t going to get that message _right away_ , but I can _hope_ , right?”

“ **damnit _____, you are just all kinds of trouble aren't ya?** ” he rasps unhappily.

“Sorry,” you giggle.

“ **seriously though, _what_ the _fuck_. how am i going to keep you safe _now?_** ” he rumbles.

“It’s not your job to protect me, you know,” you carefully remind him.

“ **i need to get a leash for you or something.** ”

Your eyes narrow at the luggage stand by the foot of your bed. “Do you _really_ think I’d let you put a _leash_ on me?” you challenge.

“ **probably not,** ” he concedes. “ **but it’d be a good look for you,** ” he adds, his voice dropping to something low and husky.

“Oh _god_ ,” you groan. “ _Okay_ , Sans, I’m going to bed. Good night.”

“ **think of me, sweetheart,** ” he flirts, chuckling deeply.

Your face flushes despite yourself. “I’ll do my very best _not_ to. Buh-bye now.”

* * *

 “ **SAAAAAAAAAAA _AAAAAANNNNSSSS!!_** ”

Sans pauses chewing his sandwich for a minute, one hand still holding it up in the air. He didn’t put any of the ‘fetti dicks in Papyrus’ room, did he? Naw, he doesn’t think so. But he makes a mental note to try it when the boss is in a better mood. He shrugs to himself and takes a big bite of food before turning in his seat to see a perpetually frustrated Royal Guard Captain approaching him.

“ **yeah, boss?** ” he grins broadly at the taller skeleton.

Papyrus frowns deeply at the chunks of food between his brother’s sharp teeth. “ **FIRSTLY, DO NOT _SPEAK_ TO ME WITH FOOD IN YOUR MOUTH, IT IS _DISGUSTING_ TO WATCH YOU MASTICATE THOSE INNOCENT KITCHEN INGREDIENTS,** ” he hisses. “ **SECOND, _WHAT_ IS _YOUR HUMAN_ DOING IN A VIDEO WITH _METTATON!?_** ”

The Captain is holding out his cellphone for him to see the video open. The shorter skeleton grumbles to himself as he takes a hard swallow of food, accepting the outstretched phone to scroll through the comments. Sans was annoyed that you decided to be in a video with the metal molester without telling him about it first, _and_ he was slightly _more_ annoyed that the robot took every opportunity to flirt, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it _now_. Only watch in mild horror as the views climbed up and the comments rolled in. Lots of people want to know who you are. How is he going to play this?

“ **apparently he wanted her on camera with him in this one,** ” he rasps his response, offering the phone back to Papyrus, who snatches it in absolute fury.

“ **I DON** **’** **T UNDERSTAND IT,** ” he hisses. “ **WHY _HER_ , A _HUMAN?_ NEARLY _ANY_ MONSTER WOULD MAKE A MORE CAPABLE AND _APPROPRIATE_ ASSISTANT TO METTATON** **’** **S GREATNESS.** ”

“ **all she did was read him questions,** ” Sans chuckles. “ **i think she** **’** **s plenty capable of that.** ”

“ **BUT SHE HAS ABSOLUTELY NO DRAMATIC _FLAIR!_** ” he continues ranting. “ **IT** **’** **S SO** **…** **SO MUNDANE, SO PEDESTRIAN, SO _ORDINARY,_ WHEN COMPARED TO THE WORKS OF VISUAL AND AUDITORY _ART_ HE PRODUCED WHEN HE WAS UNDERGROUND! THERE WERE NO SPIKE TRAPS, NO VATS OF CAUSTIC SUBSTANCES, AND ZERO _SCREAMING!_ IT** **’** **S _BORING!_** ”

“ **mettaton can** **’** **t do that on the surface, you know,** ” he reminds him. “ **and plenty of people seem alright with it.** ”

“ **WELL, AS A _TRUE_ FAN I AM _QUITE_ DISPLEASED BY THIS DEVELOPMENT,** ” he snarls. “ **TELL YOUR HUMAN TO _STAY AWAY_ FROM METTATON FROM NOW ON. I DON** **’** **T WANT TO SEE ANY MORE OF THIS** **…** **_THIS!_** ” he flails, gesturing wildly to his cell.

Yeah, _as if_ he could tell you what to do. He kind of wishes he _could_ , but you’re just so damn determined and prone to impulsivity. “ **will do boss. i** **’** **ll let her know,** ” he offers, knowing it won’t actually do anything to discourage you. “ **you want me to tell mettaton the same thing too?** ” he offers.

Papyrus’ cheekbones flush red. “ ** _NO._** **I** **…** **_I_ WILL SPEAK WITH HIM _PERSONALLY_. IT WOULD BE BETTER THAT HE RECEIVES THE FEEDBACK FROM A _TRUE_ FAN,** ” he announces proudly.

“ **of course boss,** ” Sans rolls his eyes. Whatever makes him happy.

* * *

Class today involved a long lecture on Windows NTFS and share permissions, and then a worksheet you’d already finished and confirmed with the teacher. Now with nothing to do but to either read ahead or to fiddle with your phone until Sans comes to pick you up, you decide to fiddle with your phone.

 *** Hey Grillbaby, how are things?** you text anxiously. Will he be alright with that nickname? It’s been a few days since that date. **How did opening your restaurant go?** you add after a moment.

 *** Good afternoon _____, things are very well. My clientele from the Underground have returned, and are keeping me quite preoccupied.**

*** That** **’** **s good! So, I guess that means you** **’** **re pretty busy then, huh?** Damn, there goes your opportunity to ask him out again. Maybe you should’ve tried him sooner.

 *** For you _____, I am always available.**

A not completely unpleasant mix of nervous energy and passion races through you. So, he’s still interested in you despite the radio silence. That’s good. Geez, why does he make you feel like such a lovesick teenager? You discover that you’re nibbling on your thumbnail, and pull your hand away from your face. Not a habit you indulge in frequently, but apparently one that you’re prone to when texting with a hot guy.

Heh, well, Grillby _is_ pretty hot.

 *** Can we try another date sometime soon?** you find yourself asking. **I mean, between work and school I** **’** **m pretty busy too these days, but I want to see you again.** Wow you’re so awkward.

 *** Choose any day you like and I will ensure my schedule’s open.**

*** Okay,** you confirm with a smile. **Will do that.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe. Hope you liked it. I've got the next chapter just about ready to go, too - It's Snas and plot, since those were the two highest votes, of course. One of these days, Gaster's got to get some time with Reader, you guys :P But it's okay that it hasn't happened yet. The beauty of the polls is that whenever it happens it'll be shaped by other events leading up to it. So, if it happens while she's at the hotel, it might be a hotel scene. If it happens when other circumstances change later, it'll be somewhere else. It's really quite flexible :) Although I do look forward to writing more of him. He's such a sinister creep.
> 
> Also, wanted to throw in a little Grillbae, just to show that they're still talking and interested in each other. They'll date whenever you vote for them to date. Both of them are honestly busy with their own things right now though, so it can wait.
> 
> And is that blush a sprinkling of Fell!Papyton? Hmmm, you'll just have to see :)


	43. The Drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swearing, mild violence, and some slightly scary things warning.

Fuck. He’s _late_.

You grumble as you set your textbook down, throwing the bookmark into it and slapping it closed. Taking out your phone you open up a new text to Sans.

*** Hey skelepal where you at?**

… No response. Leaning back into the student lobby couch, you sigh. Maybe you could risk a walk today? It’s not far, and the snow’s finally starting to melt, so the weather’s agreeable too.

Then again, you’d already had half a dozen people talk to you about that video with Mettaton today - you answered what you could and jotted down what you couldn’t into your notebook to share with the tin man later. And as much as you don’t want to feel like you need to be protected all the time, you can’t ignore that he does make you feel a whole lot safer.

He was also _right_. Being on camera with a monster like that was probably a _really_ bad idea. If only people could just relax about monsters and see that they’re not so bad.

Wishful thinking? Probably.

“You’re still here?”

You turn your head slightly, and instantly scoff and roll your eyes. “Derrick what are you doing here?” you demand boredly.

“I had a question for Richard, but he seems to be out for the evening already,” he explains, holding up his own notebook. “Is your, uh, _friend_ , coming to pick you up?”

You twist your lips in a grimace. “He’s not responding to my texts. I figure there must be a work emergency or something.” You’re not quite sure yet what either of his jobs consist of, but Gaster _did_ have something to do with the first one, and he _is_ the Royal Scientist. Labs can have emergencies and overtime, right?

“I see,” he hums thoughtfully. “Then… Perhaps _I_ could take you home?”

“ _No thanks_ ,” you refuse instantly. “I’m not very far, I was just considering taking a walk.”

“I’m here anyways, and I have my driver waiting upstairs.”

“ _Dude_. I don’t exactly _know_ what’s wrong with your brain? But I _don_ _’_ _t trust you_ – _Least_ of all to take me anywhere in your damn _car_ ,” you hiss at him. Picking up your phone again, you wonder whether you shouldn’t just call Sans. But if he’s working with Gaster, wouldn’t that be disruptive? He might also think you’re in trouble if you do that.

“Then let me make it up to you,” he insists. “One short trip to ensure you safely home.”

You shake your head no. He frowns at that.

“I think Sylvie is looking to lock up anyways, so you won’t be able to stay here much longer.”

“Then I’ll go sit in the mall instead.”

“Please, _____,” he begs. “Listen, I’m sorry that my actions have soured your opinion of me, and I truly just want to make amends. You said you don’t trust me - I want to change that. Let me show you that I am worthy of your trust.”

Well, that’s the first time he’s actually said anything _close_ to an apology for hurting you.

“Ugh. _Fine_ , but if you try and take me anywhere that isn’t home, I will open the door and jump out,” you inform him. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grins.

* * *

 _Fuck_. He overslept.

Sans rubs his hard palms over his sockets, trying to rouse himself from his nap. It was already almost six o’clock. Are you still waiting at your school for him to pick you up? He hopes so.

Rolling out of bed, he digs through the pile on his floor for a shirt that doesn’t stink too bad, before pulling it on. He looks down at his shorts, and shrugs. Eh, they’ll do. He’s got to get moving.

Heading out to the front hallway he slides into his slippers and pulls on his jacket, then teleports over to your school.

The lights are off, and the door is locked. _Fuck_.

Wait. There’s movement inside.

A beat later and the distracted receptionist gasps dramatically at his sudden appearance. “Wh-How did you get _in_ here?!” she asks, flustered with panic.

“ **magic,** ” he answers gruffly. “ **where’s _____? she still here?** ”

“O-Oh,” she relaxes. “She left. Just a couple minutes ago actually, with one of her classmates.”

Wait a second. _That_ _’_ _s_ not good.

“ **which classmate?** ” he practically snarls.

She gulps hard. “It, um… It was Derrick Smith.”

… _Shit!_ What the hell are you doing with _that_ guy?!

As if confirming his worst fears, his phone starts to ring.

* * *

“Do you _actually_ drive, or do you just pay people to do it for you?” you tease him.

“I _do_ have my full license,” Derrick smiles. “But I dislike the stress. Other people complicate things, while I just want to get around without having to be on the defensive.”

“Makes sense. Drivers in this city are crazy,” you chuckle.

Well, so far this isn’t so bad. His car had heated bucket seats in the back where you’re sitting with him, in an ivory coloured leather, as well as a small TV screen suspended from the ceiling over the centre console. “Do you watch movies or something on that?” you ask, pointing to it.

“Not so much – My father actually bought me this car,” he muses. “He insisted it have every feature in the catalogue possible and then some. It’s really too much, so, that screen doesn’t see a lot of use.”

“Hey, I said left at the next light,” you notice. “We’re not in the turning lane.”

There’s a beat of tense silence in the car, the red light seeming to take forever to change. Once it does, the car goes straight. You narrow your eyes at Derrick.

“This _better_ just be your driver getting confused and turning around somewhere,” you test.

He grimaces at that, then smirks. “… It’s not.”

You gape. “You FUCKING _LIAR!!_ ”

Your hand instantly goes to the button to unfasten the seatbelt, then fight your way out of it as you try the door. It… It won’t open. It looks like it’s unlocked, but it’s not budging.

“You turned on the _fucking_ _CHILD LOCK_ ON MY _DOOR!?_ ”

“So you can’t injure yourself,” he replies casually. “I’m sorry _____, but this is for your own good.”

“Where the **_fuck_** are you _taking_ me!?”

“To someone who can _help_ you.”

Is he fucking _serious!?_ “The only person in this car right now who _needs_ mental help is _YOU, you **FUCKING** PRICK!!_ ” He seriously thinks he can just _kidnap you_ and that everything will be okay? What the _fuck!?_

“You’re _not well_. Please listen, _____, I’m only doing this out of concern-“

You take a swing at him, but he deflects your fist way too easily. Shit, isn't he some kind of super martial artist or something? You’re trapped, outmatched, and on your way to parts unknown. You need a new plan, _fast_.

“I think the monsters are doing something with their magic to manipulate you-“

 _Your phone!_ Thankfully, you were against putting your bag in the trunk, so you have your cellphone! You unzip your bag and hastily bring it out. Clicking it on you open the emergency call feature and dial a four-digit number.

“… Wait. Who are you calling? The police?”

“Someone faster.”

His eyes narrow dangerously in the dimly lit space. “Give me that!” He reaches for it, but you twist and kick at him. He unbuckles his seatbelt to try and get more range of movement in the confined backseat of his stupid rich boy car.

“ **FUCK** **_OFF_** ,” you snarl in rage, landing a good hit on his face with your boot. It doesn’t seem to slow him down though. Instead, he just grabs your ankle and moves your foot out of the way as he reaches again for your phone.

The driver gasps as the car comes to an abrupt stop. Neither of you wearing seatbelts, you both crash into the seats in front of you. You yelp as you hit it, but fortunately it’s well-cushioned and you’re unharmed. Climbing up, you look over the front headrest.

Thank _god_. It’s _Sans_.

He’s standing in the middle of the road, right in front of the car. The driver looks nervous, unsure of what to do.

Derrick climbs up, and upon looking out front he visibly pales. “No, _no!_ ”

You wave your arms above your head to signal to the skeleton, then pick up your bag and try to smash the window with it. Fuck, it doesn’t even seem to _scratch_. Is it _bulletproof?_ Normally car windows are supposed to shatter easily for emergencies or something, right?

The door in front of you suddenly glows red, and with a deafening metal _crunch_ it’s _ripped_ off the car. A large skeleton monster with a glowing red eye holds out a hand for you.

“ **let’s go, sweetheart.** ”

Without hesitation you take his hand, and appear back at the hotel with him. Turning into his chest, you hug him while you shake with a restrained sob. His hard arms encircle you tightly.

“ **you’re safe now,** ” he reassures you.

“Don’t leave.”

“ **i won’t.** ”

“Just… Stay here for a while with me, okay?”

“ **okay.** ”

“… Your shirt _reeks_ of mustard,” you grimace into the fabric.

“ **probably,** ” he chuckles warmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember chapter 23's poll? You voted for antagonist Derrick in this story, so I've ramped up his bids to get Reader away from the monsters. Yeah, he's cray. Also more Snas time :)
> 
> Man, sometimes when I get through a writer's block the floodgates just _open_ , you know? We'll see if I can keep that up. I really should be studying though, lol. That bit on NTFS permissions last chapter is actually what I was just reading about the other night.
> 
> Next chapter poll:
> 
> A: Gaster  
> B: Grillbae  
> C: Mettaton  
>  ~~D: Snas~~  
>  ~~E: Plot~~
> 
> :D


	44. The Teacher.

“Get up, lazybones.”

“ **five more minutes.** ”

Groaning tiredly, you grab one of the excess pillows on your bed and hurl it at the sleeping skeleton across the gap on the other one. It hits his skull with a soft thud. He grabs it off of him, moaning and cuddling it into his chest.

“Sans, you’re such a _dork_ ,” you giggle. “Well, if you’re going to _stay_ there, I’m going to grab a shower.”

His skull suddenly perks up. “ **can i watch?** ”

“Pfft, _no_.”

“ ** _damnit_ ,**” he grunts, finally sitting up and stretching.

“Oh, so _now_ you’re getting up?” you scold.

“ **well,** ” he hums. “ **i can’t exactly sleep thinkin’ about _that_ going on in the other room,** ” he grins at you lewdly.

“ _Ass._ ”

“ **yes, you have a fine ass. we’ve established this, sweetheart. what do you want for breakfast?** ”

“Don’t you have work to get to?”

“ **oh, right,** ” he mumbles, taking his phone off the nightstand and checking it. “ **yeah, in a few minutes. it alright if i port home for a shower of my own?** ”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you nod.

“ **i won’t be late again,** ” he says seriously. His somber expression tells you that he really regrets not being there for you yesterday.

“I’m actually thinking about skipping school today,” you sigh. “But I have an exam I can’t miss tomorrow, and I’m _really_ going to have to figure something out long-term. I still have class with that asshole.”

“ **can’t you switch classes or something?** ”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t work like that. You’ve seen how small my school is, right? There isn’t multiple classes and teachers or anything, just the one.”

“ **what about dropping out?** ”

“Can’t, sorry. I have a big student loan to pay off, and it’s a bigger commitment if I don’t pass the program and finish it on time.”

“ **damnit _____, what the fuck am i gunna do with you?** ” he snarls. “ **you can’t keep going to that place if that asshole is going to try and fucking _abduct_ you.** ”

“Well, I don’t think _running away_ is going to solve anything either. Plus, it’s not exactly my style,” you argue. “Besides, I know now to never trust him again. Not after _that_.” That _should_ limit his opportunities for any future bullshit, at the very least.

“ **so what’s your plan then?** ” he interrogates.

“I don’t really know,” you hum. “I _could_ call the police, but since it’s already over and done with, I’m not sure they’d actually do anything beyond take a report? Although I _am_ kind of worried that they might frown on your involvement, uh, since you’re a monster and everything, you know,” you fret.

“ **why? i didn’t hit the guy or nothing,** ” he complains. “ **i mean, i definitely _wanted_ to, but…** ”

“I was thinking along the lines of you wrecking his _car_. They might find something to charge you with for that. Destruction of property or whatever.”

“ **oh, right,** ” he chuckles.

“Was it _really necessary_ to rip the _door_ off?”

“ **well,** ” he smiles giddily. “ **i was thinkin’, ‘how can i fuck this guy’s day up without laying a finger on him?’ ruining his car looked like a fun way to do that.** ”

“Seems kind of over-dramatic, though,” you tease.

 **“whatever. it was totally worth it.** ”

“I’m not disputing _that_ ,” you wink at him. “But, I think that for now maybe the cops should stay out of it… As bad an idea as that would normally _be_ , I think the cons may outweighs the pros there.”

It’s also unlikely that Derrick would call the cops on his own for the damage, because then he’d have to tell someone _why_ a monster totaled his ride. And if Sans ever got taken in for questioning, you weren’t exactly going to be _quiet_ about it.

“ **so, what else is there?** ”

You think for a second. “Well, telling my teacher might help, actually. He’s stepped in between me and Derrick before. It wouldn’t hurt to just give him an FYI, like, ‘hey he tried to kidnap me because he doesn’t like my friends.’ I don’t know for sure what he would _do_ as a teacher, but, I guess it’s a start?”

“ **can’t hurt, i suppose. anything else?** ”

“I guess… If it’s alright with you, I think it might be safer if you, uh, teleported me around more often,” you attempt cautiously. Is that too much to ask? “I’m sorry if that’s a lot of trouble, I’m just thinking that minimizing the amount of time I spend out in public would reduce any other possible risks.”

He raises a brow bone as his red left eye studies you, then he chuckles softly. “ **it ain’t a problem sweetheart. i was thinking something similar.** ” So, it’s not a big deal? That’s good. You were worried the use of magic might make him tired, but then again, he _always_ seems a little tired. “ **is that all you got?** ”

“Well, do _you_ have any ideas?”

“ **yeah - a _leash_ ,**” he grins broadly, showing off that one sharp golden tooth at the far side of his smile.

“Sans you are _not_ putting a leash on me.”

“ **don’t worry, i’ll get a matching collar that suits you,** ” he teases. “ **but, more seriously? i think we ought to get you out of this hotel and somewhere safer.** ”

“Really?” you ask, surprised. “Do you have any suggestions? I don’t exactly make enough money for an apartment of my own yet.”

“ **i’ve got an idea in the works,** ” he says, fighting the sudden onset of a yawn. “ **don’t worry about it, i’ll take care of it.** ”

You groan at that. “You _know_ , if it weren’t for what happened yesterday, I’d be fighting you tooth and nail on that right now.”

“ **heh. i know.** ”

* * *

“Hey Richard, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Your teacher looks up from his desk, then he checks his watch. “You’re early for the exam today. I hope you’re not looking for the answer sheet?” he teases.

“Ah, you know I don’t need it,” you grin. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. I have sort of a personal problem with another student in our class,” you begin to explain.

“It’s not Derrick, is it?”

You snort a chuckle. “How did you ever guess?”

“What did he do _this_ time?”

“He tried to kidnap me because he doesn’t like that I’m friends with monsters.”

Richard gapes, then throws his pen against the notebook he was writing in, and it bounces off to land somewhere on the floor in front of his desk. He leans both elbows onto the wooden surface next and cradles his head, massaging his temples. You have to wonder what expletives are running through his brain right now, as he’s obviously unhappy about the news.

“Have you called the police?” he asks, breaking from his reverie.

“Uh… No. Listen, I _know_ that’s probably irresponsible of me, but I’m also worried what the police will do about my friend Sans, since he’s a monster and everything. He bailed me out.”

He hums at that, obviously displeased and questioning your life choices. “I see. What on earth can _I_ do, then?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to drop out or anything to avoid him. Maybe, when assigning group work, you could avoid partnering us together?” you suggest.

“That’s reasonable,” he says, digesting that. “I might have a couple of other things I can do to make your academic life more comfortable, but for obvious reasons I can’t do anything like remove him from the program.”

“I understand,” you nod. “I wouldn’t ask you to go _that_ far, but, I _really_ appreciate anything you _can_ do to help me out.”

“What are you doing to keep yourself safe, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Avoid him, mostly,” you shrug. “And, _all_ of my monster friends were freaking out all day yesterday when word got around, so they’re all jumping in to protect me basically twenty-four seven. In fact,” you begin, glancing out the open doorway and gesturing to your guest. He gets up from the couch and comes into the room. “Richard, this is my friend Dr. Gaster, the Royal Scientist. Gaster, this is my prof, Richard.”

The very tall and very well-dressed skeleton holds out a hand to your teacher in greeting. “ **It is an honour to meet you.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh fucckkk Derrick's going to get it. :D


	45. The Escort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for some Gaster? Because damn do I have some Gaster for you :)

A tense silence filled the room when Derrick arrived. Richard got up from his desk and turned him back out the door to talk with him. Minutes passed, everyone skimming their notes or clicking their pens distractedly in anticipation for the test. When Richard returned, he stood briefly at the front of the room, a very thoroughly scolded Derrick following him. He scowls pointedly at you, and you can’t help but to smirk in response as you notice the dark yellow bruise high on his cheek.

“Shaun, you’re switching seats with Derrick,” your prof orders. “Take everything with you, this is a permanent change.”

Richard is a fucking _godsend_. No more will the affluent asshole be breathing down your neck all the time.

Once the two swap desks, and Shaun is situated in the seat behind you where Derrick used to be, your teacher starts passing out the exam.

* * *

Gaster was pleasantly surprised when you left the room well ahead of schedule. When he sees you, he carefully folds the newspaper in half before setting it down on the couch beside him, rising to his feet slowly. “ **I trust the exam was no match for you, my dear?** ” he greets you with a smile.

He enjoys how you fluster under his appraise. “Yeah, this unit wasn’t too hard,” you remark humbly. “I mean, Windows share and security permissions seem like a mess when you first get into them, but you only have to break things once to learn a ton about it.”

The scientist rumbles with a soft laugh, holding out a hand for yours. “ **Shall we depart?** ”

“Actually, uh, I need to hit the bathroom first,” you wince at yourself. “Do you mind holding on to my bag for a sec?” you ask, unslinging it from your shoulder.

“ **Do you require an escort?** ”

You laugh. “Oh _god_ , Gaster. The day I need an escort to go to the bathroom better be _long_ after I’m eligible to start collecting my old age pension.”

He blinks his sockets at that. “ **I beg your pardon?** ”

“Not all of us get to live to be a thousand, you know,” you tease him. You offer your school bag to him, and with a tiny amount of resignation, he smiles and takes it. “Thanks, doc. It’s literally like fifteen meters away out the door, I won’t be long!” you call out, already halfway to the exit door.

The skeleton looks down at the weathered straps of the knapsack over his fingers oddly. Here he was, standing in some human educational institution, holding a woman’s _bag_. How times have clearly changed.

“Where did she go, _monster?_ ”

His brow rises slightly at the condescending greeting. Who _dares_ speak to _him_ , the Royal Scientist in this way? Looking over he sees the next person to leave the room. A young man with brown hair and green eyes, glaring up at him. The soul of Pride.

“ **I _remember_ you,** ” the scientist grins. “ **You are the one who caused _____ a _great deal_ of trouble yesterday, are you not?”**

Gaster strides toward him a step, utterly delighted when the human backs up a step, visibly shook by his approach. So much for Bravery. He nearly chortles at the sight. Were his attentions against _____ associating with his kind rooted in some perverted sense of _Justice_ , then? How _interesting_.

“Listen, I don’t know what you guys want with _____, but _forget_ about it. I’m not going to let you do anything to hurt her,” he warns.

Does he intend to _fight_ for her? Gaster restrains a pleasant thrill at the thought. “ **All _I_ desire is her companionship,** ” he asserts. “ **She is fascinating to me, and so far the _only_ human to willfully associate with my kind. The only thing _I_ am after is improving upon monster and human relations.** ”

“That’s a _lie_ , and you know it,” the human contests.

… Was that really so transparent? The scientist doesn’t think so. After all, he has become _very_ well-practiced with concealing falsehoods over the last thousand years. No, it must be something else. Perhaps he only suspects a lie, because the opposite _truth_ is undesirable to him.

“ **And what are _your_ intentions with the lovely _____, hmm?** ” the skeleton presses.

His ivory mouth twists upwards in a pleased grin at the human’s immediate response – widened eyes and a flushed look on his cheeks as his jaw works uselessly, unable to prepare a response. He’s _smitten_ with you.

“ **I _see,_** ” he muses aloud. “ **Well, I am afraid your ‘warning’ will _not_ be adhered to, not by myself nor by any other monster,** ” the skeleton insists. “ **_____ is simply far too important to the future of humans and monsters to relinquish.** ”

The boy’s eyes light up in fury, and Gaster wonders whether he might have a higher than healthy dose of Wrath working for him. “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Gaster, I’m ready!” you call out. “Oh for fuck’s _sake_ Derrick, get _lost_ already,” you add, scowling at the boy.

“_____, don’t leave with him!” he pleads uselessly.

The scientist is all too thrilled when you grasp his phalanges in your small hand and guide him towards the exit door. “I’ll leave with _whomever_ I like!” you hiss. “And _hey_ , the next time you want to try and _kidnap_ somebody, try a fucking _rental car!_ ”

The door bounces against its hinges as you leave, gripping Gaster’s hand tightly in your own.

The sensation of your soft skin against his hard bones is not unwelcome, he thinks.

* * *

“So, I never did ask why you wanted to come to my school today,” you ask the doc as you walk with him. It’s a little weird walking in public with such a freaking tall skeleton monster, never mind one with such a prestigious title as ‘Royal Scientist’, but you just kind of accept that this is your life now.

People are _definitely_ staring, though. You send a few pointed scowls at the more obvious ones until they turn and shuffle away.

“ **Well, to be truthful,** ” Gaster begins. “ **I was hoping you would come to join me at the lab this afternoon?** ”

“Ahh, of _course_ there’s an ulterior motive,” you nudge him, groaning. “Alphys has asked me so many times that I’m actually _really_ put off by the idea. So, no thanks,” you reject.

“ **If you would change your mind for _me_ , I sincerely _doubt_ she would be offended,** ” he offers gently.

“And why do you think I should change my mind?” you challenge, looking up at the towering skeleton.

“ **Remember our dinner at Grillby’s?** ”

You press your lips together in thought. It was a warm, comfortable, and hazy memory. There was also some stuff you learned about monster magic and souls.

“ **It occurs to me that, I have not actually begun to teach you how to use your magic thus far,** ” he highlights for you. “ **And, taking certain… Recent _events_ into consideration, I believe it may be of some value to you. You _have_ met Frisk and Chara, correct?** ”

That’s right! How could you forget that you’re a _mage!_ Frisk and Chara’s abilities _were_ pretty cool, if a little off-putting, but they’d _also_ remarked that it was thanks to their magic that they both survived their journey through Underground.

“You think that, whatever my ability is, I could use it to protect myself from assholes like Derrick.”

“ **I sincerely _admire_ your quick intuition,** ” he beams down at you.

“And I guess… Visiting the lab has something to do with teaching me that?”

“ **Correct once more.** ”

“Well,” you sigh. “Alright _fine_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a two-parter, next one to go up shortly.


	46. The Lab.

“I just have to stand in this little room?”

 _Everything_ about this place was unnerving. The offices you’d passed through were so sterile – well, except for the desk across from Alphys, which you had a sneaking suspicion who it belonged to – white walls and polished steel fixtures and bland hard furniture that looked like it was stolen from a hospital waiting room. Sans was out, but you greeted a nervous Alphys on your way through, who barely spared the Royal Scientist a glance before returning to her papers. You spy a tiny pink piece of dickfetti stuck in her paperclip holder, and nod your silent approval.

On the other side of the offices was a large, thick door, several layers of steel visible in it once opened, reminding you of a bank vault or bomb shelter of some kind. Why so much security? Gaster spun the locking crank to open it with one hand, seemingly _way too easily_ for a slender skeleton. How strong _is_ he, really? Undyne mentioned that he might be the strongest monster around, but honestly? To look at him? It doesn’t seem right. His slender bones and towering height made you think of him as _fragile_ , not _strong_.

Past the crazy door was a lab of some kind. Machines of all sorts whirred and clicked around you, it was all very noisy and, were it not for the shiny steel finishes on everything instead of weathered brass, it’d look kind of steampunk, too.

He’d shown you to this room, and you worried briefly when the exit door didn’t have a push bar to get yourself out. You’re at the mercy of the Royal Scientist letting you out of this tiny room, with no furniture to sit on or creature comforts of any kind. But first, he wants to take a closer look at your soul.

He wouldn’t just… Leave you locked up in here. … Right?

“ **The infrared cameras will track you automatically. Please do try to _relax_ , my dear. This will only take a moment.**”

“Sure,” you huff resignedly. It’s not like you have any other options now. You hug your arms against your belly, wondering what’s showing on the screen facing away from you. At least there’s a window in one wall so you can look out and watch what he’s doing, even if it’s a small one.

“ **Here we are,** ” he announces. “ **Your attributes are around the values I suspected they would be.** ”

“What do you mean by ‘attributes?’” you have to ask.

His bony fingers clack away noisily at the plastic keys of the console, then an old dot matrix printer behind him starts grinding away as his report prints. “ **I will make a copy for you, as well,** ” he says, nodding towards the window where you can see him. Once the printer finishes it’s slow and loud job, he tears the sheet. “ **Here,** ” he says, striding over to you. “ **Now, when analyzing a soul in detail we can also measure and evaluate certain characteristics that make up an individual beyond just their primary soul spectrum colour and related secondary and tertiary instincts.** ”

You squint at the sheet through the glass. It’s just a bunch of numbers, you can’t tell what you’re supposed to be looking at. “Sorry, can you go through it with me?” you ask awkwardly.

“ **Of course, my dear,** ” he smiles delightedly. Gaster at work is certainly more animated. “ **This first attribute is the value of your Determination – the strength of your soul’s primary aspect, measured on a scale from zero to sixty-five thousand, five hundred and thirty-five. _One_ of the reasons I was interested in scanning you in the first place, is because of how _high_ this value is. In casual observation, most human adults have fairly low values for these, making their souls appear dark to the naked eye, but _your_ soul is a very bright shade of red. As it happens, your Determination value appears to be above fifty-seven _thousand_.** ”

You guess that’s a lot? “Okay, what about those other characteristics you mentioned?”

“ **Aha,** ” he beams. “ **Here we have a few different measures – Physical Fitness, Reflexes, Endurance, Intellect, Intuition, and Presence.** ”

Those sound _suspiciously_ familiar. “Sort of like; Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma?” you offer.

He sockets crease uncertainly, unsure of what you’re getting at. You chuckle at that.

“Sorry, it just made me think of Dungeons and Dragons – a role playing game system,” you explain. “Please continue.”

Gaster seems interested, though. “ **I will ask you to show me this ‘role playing game system’ another time – I find myself _intrigued_ that humans have developed such a similar measure for one’s characteristics.** ”

“Will do,” you nod brightly.

As he goes through explaining them, you can definitely identify with each characteristic’s explanation as they line up almost perfectly with D&D’s definitions of the stats, but the numbering system is different. While the first number for your Determination was very large, these numbers are on a scale from zero to two hundred and fifty-five – From your unit on IP addressing, you know that’s an eight bit integer.

“ **Your Intellect, Intuition, and Presence are all very high, as I thought,** ” he compliments. “ **This is also a trend I have observed with the few mages I have had access to.** ”

“That’d just be me and the queen’s kids, right?” you ask.

He nods. “ **Correct. I _do_ wonder if there is a theme, but the sample size is far too small to build a hypothesis on.** ”

“Say, what about those last two numbers?” you point to the bottom of the sheet through the glass. “You haven’t covered those.”

“ **Ah, yes,** ” he nods. “ **I believe that to be an error of my equipment, and not accurate as a result. Perhaps I will recalibrate my instruments and we can try again another time?** ”

“You’re not going to tell me what they mean?”

“ **It would be pointless, as I do not believe them to be true representations, and I do not want to mislead you,** ” he declines. “ **Another time, perhaps.** ”

“So, then are we done in here?”

“ **Ah, one moment. There is just one last test I would like to run.** ”

You frown anxiously as he moves away from the window back to the console. He glances at you, smiling oddly. “ **I will be _very_ brief,** ” he promises.

“Okay,” you say resignedly.

He taps a few keys, then, his skull around his nasal ridge seems to crinkle.

“Something wrong?” you inquire.

“ **… I am unsure,** ” he remarks. He kneels down on the tile floor and opens a panel under the console. “ **… _I see_. … It seems I have yet more _maintenance_ to perform later,** ” he sighs, sounding _very_ annoyed about something.

“I guess something else isn’t working?” you offer.

Gaster nods. “ **Repairs will go quickly, but first I need the parts. I will be forced to leave it for another day,** ” he grumbles.

“Can I get out of this room now, then?”

He looks up at you, his face softening when his sockets meet your eyes. “ **Of course, my dear. I am very sorry to have kept you confined for so long.** ”

* * *

“ **Are you familiar with meditation?** ”

He’s taken you to another room in the lab building – a much more comfortable and pleasant one, all things considered. You’re sitting across from him on a small purple couch in an office that you suspect might belong to him. Each of his long skeletal hands is holding each of yours. His bones are warm and pulsing faintly with magic.

“I’ve tried it a few times, yeah,” you nod. “Usually right at bed time to help me fall asleep, or just to wind down from stress.”

“ **Do you normally have an objective when you make such an attempt, or do you use it purely for relaxation?** ” he asks.

“Just relaxation,” you shrug.

“ **I see,** ” he nods. His thumbs run along the backs of your hands briefly. “ **May I attempt to guide you through a meditation?** ”

“… _Now?_ ” you ask awkwardly. Here, at his sketchy lab, alone with him in his _office?_

“ **My only aim is to see if we can learn what your ability is,** ” he reassures you gently. “ **I do not intend to pressure you, but I do believe there is valuable insight to be gained here for your future training in the use of magic.** ”

“Uh, maybe another time,” you turn him down anxiously. You don’t like the thought of leaving yourself vulnerable with him right now – you’ve done _enough_ of that today with the scan earlier. “Isn’t there something else we can try first?”

He frowns, then nods. “ **Of course there is,** ” he replies, then holds up your hands in his. “ **First, I presume you are currently feeling for my magic, that faint pulsation in my bones?** ”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It’s a little unnerving how quick it is. Wait – can you feel me _doing_ that?!”

The skeleton’s cracked face turns up in a smile, nodding slightly. “ **Of course. As a matter of fact, I can actually feel _your_ magic brushing against mine when you do so.** ”

“ _Whoa,_ ” you gasp, looking at your hands. “ _Neat!_ ” Hey, is _that_ why he always wants to hold your hands? “Wait, that’s not… _Intimate_ or anything, is it?” you add, suddenly concerned. Last thing you want to do is accidentally get _fresh_ with Doctor Gaster.

He chuckles at that. “ **No more so than an embrace or a handshake,** ” he assures you. “ **It is _comforting_ , but, is not _typically_ considered intimate, by our standards.** ”

“Okay,” you sigh, relieved. Last thing you want to do is send any more mixed signals – you do that _enough_ with _Sans_.

“ **I would like to assist you in feeling for your _own_ magic, now,** ” he offers.

You gulp. “Alright. Let’s try that.”

“ **Lean back,** ” he instructs you. You shuffle your back into the stiff cushions, the couch noticeably new and not yet worn in, but not totally uncomfortable either. He carefully rests your far hand with your arm along your side, then takes your other hand in both of his, fingers tickling your arm as he places both thumbs at your wrist. “ **This steady pulse I can feel here, this is your heartbeat, correct?** ”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“ **Did you know that you have a _second_ pulse, called your spirit pulse, that you can feel if you relax deeply enough?** ”

You throw him a critical look. “Gaster, I said _no_ to the meditation,” you remind him sternly.

“ **I will not impose anything on you that you are uncomfortable with,** ” he insists. “ **And, while I mention _relaxation_ , I do not mean to induce a full meditative state with this method.**”

“Well,” you grumble. “Okay, fine. So, I have a spirit pulse?”

He nods. “ **Just relax, and focus your attention on your heartbeat,** ” he coos smoothly.

You take a couple of deep breaths, your heart ringing in your ears, overly aware of the scientist shifting to sit closer to you, thumbs still gently pressed against the skin of your wrist. As you start to calm down and relax, your breathing evens out, and he at one point releases your hand, gently resting it at your side.

“ **Good,** ” his cultured voice quietly praises. “ **Now, I would like you to shift your focus to your circulatory system. Feel the blood moving through your body. Down, through your legs and down to your toes. Then, returning upwards to pass down through your arms, down to your fingers, and back up again.** ”

Suddenly feeling _very_ relaxed, you barely hum a response as you shift your attention as directed.

“ **Keep breathing, relax, and focus on your blood flow,** ” he gently reminds you. His voice has taken on a silken, dreamy quality. An indeterminate amount of time later, he continues. “ **Do you feel any new sensations in your arms or legs? Do not respond, just direct your focus to it.** ”

There’s a spot by your ankle that… Kind of tingles? You think on it, keeping your breathing even, and your mind startles slightly as you feel a vibration coming from that area. Is that… The spirit pulse he was talking about? Thinking about it spreads the feeling through your body more and more. It’s a very _fast_ pulsing sensation, similar to the vibration you can feel in Gaster’s hands when he holds yours. It’s almost uncomfortable how much it spreads through you. Soon almost your entire body is humming with that new, strange energy.

A very loud SLAM snaps you out of it, making you nearly jump out of your skin. Your eyes fly open and look around the room, feeling fuzzy from the relaxation, but noticing that the scientist has moved over to his desk across the room, and Sans – _Sans!?_ – is standing in the doorway, looking panicked as all hell.

Gaster takes one look at his son, and sighs. “ **Nice to see you up and about, Sans,** ” he comments, frowning as he looks over at you.

“Where’s the fire?” you ask jokingly, stretching and blinking away the relaxation.

“ ** _sweetheart,_** ” he breathes, looking between you and his dad. “ **uhhh, are you done here? let me take you home.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh _fuck_.
> 
> You know, I'd post a poll _buuuut..._ I'm _pretty sure_ I know what you guys will ask for anyways.
> 
> ... Sans POV?
> 
> Sans POV. Coming right up :)
> 
> Also: If you've read the original Not Your Doll, tell me the differences you notice between Reader's lab visit with UT!Sans, and Reader's visit here with UF!Gaster. I wanna see how many you can spot.
> 
> ... Also also: That bit about spirit pulse is part of a guided meditation to have an Out Of Body Experience (OOBE). Just so you get a glimpse of more of the weird stuff I'm into. It's a pretty trippy feeling if you can get into it.


	47. The Angel.

… Holy _fuck_ , _it’s **six-thirty** already?! **HOW?**_

Sans _throws_ the sheets off of himself in a fury, then falls to the floor, his body unexpectedly sluggish all of a sudden. He climbs onto his elbows as he curses. Something isn’t right. He’s not _normally_ this slow when he wakes up. If anything, he’s quite the opposite. His anxiety keeps him on high alert.

… Wait a minute.

Sans shifts to grip the edge of his bed, pulling himself up, and _howls_ as his legs refuse to work. They tingle painfully in response when he tries to stand. But that is _telling_. That is _very_ telling.

Gaster fucking _drugged_ him. **_Why!?_**

He kicks his feet against the floor, grunting against the pain of getting his legs working again. He feels out with his magic, trying to find you, but his eye flares in pain instead. Tranquilizers _and_ magic suppressants. **_Fucking GREAT_**.

Stumbling out of his room, he swears as Papyrus immediately plants himself in the way. “ **ABOUT TIME,** ” he scolds obliviously, folding his arms in annoyance at his slothful older brother. How Sans wishes that was accurate right now. “ **GASTER GAVE ME A LIST OF ERRANDS TO RUN, TO GIVE TO YOU ONCE YOU AWOKE. HE STRESSED THAT THEY WERE _EXTREMELY_ IMPORTANT.** ”

He fucking bets they’re ‘important’. An important _distraction_. “ **give it here, boss,** ” he wheezes. He reaches for the note, but Papyrus raises it out of reach.

“ ** _FIRST_ , HOWEVER,**” he charges. “ ** _I_ WOULD LIKE YOU TO _CLEAN YOUR ROOM_ AGAIN. THE FLOOR IS _NOT_ A PROPER PLACE TO KEEP YOUR LAUNDRY – YOU HAVE A _PERFECTLY SERVICEABLE_ CLOSET AND WARDROBE!** ”

Fucking _hell_ , Papyrus. “ **give me the list, and i’ll add getting more febreese onto it, okay?** ” he bargains. “ **any other shit you need while i’m out?** ”

Unfortunately, the royal guard captain can see right through it. “ **NO LIST UNTIL YOUR ROOM IS TIDY!** ”

“ **come _on_ , boss,**” Sans argues, sweating bullets. “ **the store i wanna get to first closes at seven,** ” he lies.

“ **WHAT IS _SO IMPORTANT_ THAT YOU CANNOT SPEND _FIVE_ FUCKING _MINUTES_ ORGANIZING YOUR _CLOTHES?!_** ” he gapes, absolutely _incredulous_ at Sans’ attitude right now.

“ **give it, papyrus. hand it over now and i’ll get you some mean cream on the way back. my treat,** ” he bribes.

Well... What self-respecting royal guardsman could _resist_ the tangy flavours of Mean Cream, the frozen treat that slings insults at you? Papyrus rolls his head agonizingly, finally allowing Sans to snatch the list from him. “ **DO NOT _BOONDOGGLE_ ABOUT IT AS YOU NORMALLY DO,** ” he orders. “ **I WANT THAT ROOM TIDIED _TONIGHT!_** ”

“ **you’re a swell pal, papyrus. i really mean that,** ” Sans praises him idly, letting out a sigh of relief as he ambles past the armoured skeleton, list in hand. Shuffling into his slippers and jacket, he doubles back for his keys before halfway running out the door.

No magic to either locate or teleport to you, but at least he has a pretty good idea of where to start looking.

* * *

Thank **fuck** _you’re **okay**.               _

He’s not totally sure what the hell you were doing half passed out on Gaster’s couch, but you _look_ fine. He’s glad to see your soul is as bright as ever, too.

“ **where’s your stuff, sweetheart?** ”

“I left it over by what I _think_ is your desk out front,” you answer casually. “Something wrong?”

“ **naw, just… let’s go, okay?** ”

You look over at Gaster, shrugging. “Sorry,” you apologize.

“ **It is no matter,** ” he forgives. “ **Remember the instructions I gave you – you can practice this on your own, of course. How about you retrieve your bag? I would like to speak with my son for a moment... _Privately_.** ”

… **Fuck**.

Blissfully unaware of what’s about to go down, you straighten and stand up from the couch, glancing at the hinges of the door as you pass by Sans. He raises a brow bone at that, inspecting them for himself. Oh, it looks like he broke them. The metal plates are twisted and one of the pins shot out. Whoops.

He doesn’t have much time to think about the damage he’s caused because in a flash, the door _slams_ closed and he’s suddenly got a very angry Royal Scientist at eye level, pinning him by his shirt against the wall, his sockets _black_ with _rage_.

“ **What are _you_ doing here?** ” he demands. “ **You are _supposed_ to be running _errands_.** ”

“ **isn’t it obvious? getting her away from _you_ ,**” he spits. “ ** _hypnotizing_ her so she’ll _fuck_ you? that’s _lame_ as _hell_ , ‘dad’.**”

Gaster blinks his sockets in mild surprise. His white eye lights flicker back, but his skull still has deep creases in it around his nasal ridge. “ **Oh? And where does this sudden _defiance_ hail from?** ”

“ **gee _, i dunno_. maybe it was all that _dt_ you pumped me full of way back when,** ” he shrugs, grinning in spite of him.

“ **… You _sabotaged_ the extractor,** ” he realizes.

So he _did_ try to suck you dry. He’s suddenly glad he had that foresight. “ **it ain’t nice to steal, you know. if you _wanted_ some of _____’s dt, you should try _askin’_ her next time. honestly, she’s probably _crazy_ enough to say yes,** ” he grumbles.

“ **Give me _one good reason_ not to _end_ you and your _petulant ways_ ,**” Gaster demands. His sockets blacken, then both are suddenly host to _angry_ red rings of magic, not unlike Sans’ own left eye.

“ **if you dust me, you really think she’s ever going to want to see you again?** ”

Sans watches as Gaster slowly closes his sockets and takes a breath. Then he _throws_ him one-handed at the opposite wall behind him, slamming painfully into an overstuffed bookshelf. The thickly set skeleton groans as he tries to work his magic, and _yes thank god_ , he can form attacks again. He starts forming a sharpened white femur in his offhand, just in case.

But Gaster straightens, glowering down at him. He’s not going to fight? Instead, he points at the door. “ ** _Just get out of my sight, Sans._** ”

Sans has _never_ been happier to follow orders.

Once out in the hall, startling as the door slams shut behind him, he starts gasping for air. His skull immediately goes slick with pearls of ruby perspiration beading up all over, and he has to lean against the wall for support as his patellas nearly shake out of place.

Holy. **_Shit_**. He’s _never_ stood up to _Gaster_ before.

“Hey Sans, are you okay?”

He looks over at you, worry mixed in your gentle expression. His guardian angel.

“ **i’m _amazing_ , sweetheart,**” he grins. “ **come on, b5 and pizza night? we’re almost into season two.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh **FUCK**.
> 
> ...
> 
> Next chapter poll?
> 
>  ~~A: Gaster~~  
>  B: Grillbae  
> C: Mettaton  
>  ~~D: Snas~~  
>  E: Plot


	48. The Forum.

“Are you going to tell me what all _that_ was about, or what?”

Sans flops down on the far bed, stretching out and listening to his bones crack, then he sighs deeply. “ **hey sweetheart, ‘m kinda out of it still. can we save it for later?** ” he groans.

What’s _with_ him today? “No, I want an explanation, Sans. You texted me this morning saying that Gaster would accompany me to school today, and he stuck around for the exam to walk me back. _Why_ are you checking your phone while I’m talking to you?”

His bone thumb taps away at the touch screen distractedly, creases forming in his skull above his nasal ridge. “ **huh,** ” he hums, then clicks it off as he drops it onto the bed next to him. “ **forgot i sent that,** ” he rasps unhappily, putting his palms over his sockets to block out the light.

“Sans, _what_ are you _hiding?_ ” you demand, growing very impatient with him.

“ **okay,** ” he rumbles, shifting to sit up and face you, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “ **listen, sweetheart – you know monsters don’t really _get_ the whole ‘trust’ thing, right?**”

“ _I_ don’t really get that you don’t get it, but, yeah? Undyne’s mentioned it before.”

“ **right. so, anyways, i have a nap in the middle of the day most days, since i have a morning job and a night job, and sleep like shit overnight,** ” he begins. “ **today, uh, during my nap, i had a dream about you. you got hurt.** ”

“Oh, really?” you blink. “Geez, I’m sorry.”

His sockets narrow at you critically. “ **what the fuck are you apologizing for _now?_** ”

“… Reflex? Sorry,” you say, then giggle as you realize your mistake. He rolls his eyes, but cracks a brief smirk. “So, you had a bad dream about me, and just kind of freaked out over it? What was it about?”

“ **uh,** ” he stammers uncomfortably. “ **that… i don’t know. that gaster did something to you that i didn’t like.** ”

That explains why he wanted you to just up and leave so quickly, then. He probably _hated_ the idea that you were alone with the royal scientist after a dream like that. “Hey, Sans?” you say, looking up at him with concern.

“ **yeah?** ”

“Do you think Gaster would ever actually hurt me?”

Rosy beads of sweat suddenly pepper his skull. “ **i don’t know, sweetheart. he’s fucking _strong_ though. if he _wanted_ to, he could. you know, i’d _really_ appreciate it if you’d be more careful around him.** ”

You straighten, nodding your understanding. “Okay. Thanks for being honest.”

“ **hey, new topic; i thought you worked most fridays?** ”

“ _Oh_ ,” you fluster, hugging your arms to your chest and glancing away. “ _Yeah_ , uh… I… I don’t work there anymore.”

His sockets narrow dangerously. “ **… _what happened_ ,**” he snarls.

“Same thing that happened with Aunt Deb and Paul, actually – my boss decided she didn’t like monsters coming around, so she called this morning to let me go,” you shrug weakly. “It’s funny, she doesn’t even want me to show up to drop off the _key_. Instead, she gave me an address to _mail_ it to her.”

“ **fucking _hell_ ,**” he curses. “ **humans are such _fucking_ _pricks_. err, no offense,** ” he adds.

You chuckle weakly at that. “I’m like the _last_ person you have to worry about offending with that right now.”

“ **how the hell am i supposed to get more cockfetti _now_? you’re _supposed_ to be my supplier,**” he jokes, feigning frustration.

“ _I know, right?!_ ” you laugh. “I even got her to order _two more boxes_ – I told her I knew a guy. She’s going to have two dozen baggies of dick confetti she can’t even _sell_.”

“ **ohh, she’ll _sell_ it alright,**” he grins sharply. “ **she doesn’t want _monsters_ coming around, huh? well, maybe i’ll just stop by _anyway_.** ”

“Sans, _no!_ ” you scold, bursting with laughter. You grab a pillow and throw it at him, but he catches it and stuffs it behind himself, cackling at your fluffy assault.

“ **i won’t even buy out her entire supply in one trip,** ” he continues menacingly. “ **i’ll buy them _one at a time_. stretch it out. maybe take a walk through the whole store first, before i settle on it.** ”

“Oh my god you’re such a _brat!_ ” you giggle. Another pillow gets thrown. He catches it with both hands before it hits him in the face, grinning as he also sets it aside.

“ **hey, do they sell transformers shit there? the robots in disguise as cars or whatever?** ” he asks suddenly.

You collect yourself for a moment so you can answer him. “Yeah, in the kids birthday section. Themed plates, napkins, and maybe paper cups, too,” you inform him. “Uhh, why?”

“ **papyrus _loves_ that shit,** ” he smiles. Really? **“maybe i’ll tell him all about it so he comes with me next time.** ”

“Hah! _Wow_ , you are _such_ a troublemaker!” You toss another pillow at him, before falling onto your side, throat going raw from the laughter. You totally missed him, but the tears in your eyes prevent you from seeing where it lands.

“ **i’m gunna give your shitty ex-boss _so_ much business, you have _no idea_ ,**” he chuckles.

“ _Okay, okay_ ,” you rasp, breathing hard from your fit. “ _Seriously_ though, if you don’t start throwing those back I’m _actually_ going to run out of pillows.”

* * *

_Hey Tom, can you send me the link to that forum you mentioned?_

Your off comment about a rental car prompted him to think. He’d already tried most everything he could on his own, but you just wouldn’t _listen_ to him. You’d rather walk away hand in hand with a monster than see reason. Maybe he was already far too late – their magic had already taken hold of your mind and robbed you of _all_ common sense.

“The future of humans and monsters.” What on earth did the skeleton _mean_ by that? Whatever it was, it certainly couldn’t be good. Why couldn’t you just understand how dangerous they were? Whatever front they were putting up to gain your trust, it had to be an act. More sinister things were afoot, he just _knows_ it.

_sure thing man. here._

Derrick clicks the link sent to his Skype chat, opening a new window to the hunter forums.

… Oh _god_ , it’s _awful_.

The template is default, the forum version is out of date, and he can tell by the newest posts in some forums that it's being overrun by spambots.

 _Who runs this website??_ he has to ask. But he doesn’t expect an answer, at least not right now. That’s not what’s important.

What’s _important_ is that he finds help with his _skeleton_ problem.

Fortunately, there’s a thread in a forum titled Rewards and Bounties that seems to already be on the case.

_he works @ a club downtown, btu i dunno if thats 2 public._

_He must get off work in the middle of the night then. Perfect time to dust him._

_darkmoon, that bounty still gud?_

_Yeah, I’ve set it aside. I’ve also got ones for the fish bitch, the robot, and that crazy red eyed kid._

_dude, that last one’s a human._

_Doesn’t matter. She associates with monsters, so she’s involved._

_cant argue wit that i guess._

Derrick hums as he digests the various comments on the thread. This user ‘Darkmoon’ had placed a few steep bounties on several monsters. He clicks through the threads one by one, and _all_ of them seem to relate to _you_ somehow. What’s the connection?

Perhaps this is the ally he’s looking for.

_Darkmoon - I believe we have something in common. Can I PM you? I think we ought to meet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay, it's seriously hard not to write those two dorks together my god. I even had _more scene_ but I'll save it for later. XD Bonus Snas time with plot sprinkles.
> 
> How about another poll? I'm going to block off choices that just don't currently make sense for now, so sorry it's just two:
> 
>  ~~A: Gaster~~ (He's in a timeout :P)  
>  B: Grillbae  
> C: Mettaton  
>  ~~D: Snas~~ (But you may get some anyways XP)  
>  ~~E: Plot~~
> 
> Oh and also: I just relaunched on Patreon today, mostly for writing. Please check it out, and take note that I am **not** using this to put anything behind a paywall, because that totally _sucks_ , but it's more of a launching off point for some pipe dreams of mine and to help me focus my attention on what _you_ wonderful people want. This is a thank you to everyone who reads and comments on my fics, so **_thank you!_** Here's to an amazing 2017!
> 
> [Edit] Link removed because AO3 does not allow promotion. Hopefully the note is still okay :(


	49. The Flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The votes were literally dead even, so cinnamon-butterscotch pie is in play and I'm giving you some Grillbae time because it's been a while... And because I had most of it written already :P

*** Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?**

Seeing the new text message from Flaming Hot Chef on your phone sends a nervous flutter through your entire being. Grillby wants to see _you?_ _Tonight?_ You could keel over from happiness right now. Knowing that even after that last date (which ended rather awkwardly due to your apparent social ineptness around cute boys) that he _still wants to see you_ and try things again? That’s _easily_ the highlight of your otherwise shitty week right there.

 *** I would love to,** you fire back promptly.

… And then you mentally _kick_ yourself for using the L word. He wouldn’t read into things, would he? You don’t want to be that crazy person that says ‘love’ on a first date. _Or_ a second date. Maybe you can just sort of… Pretend like it didn’t happen? Wait, would he even notice in the first place? You’re definitely overthinking things. Calm down, _____.

 *** Where would you like to go?** you add after composing yourself. Ah, _shit._ You’ll probably need a way to get there, and asking Sans – a guy who apparently wakes up in a panic over dreams of you getting hurt – to take you to your date with _Grillby_ would just be too weird and also kind of shitty.

Well, maybe he wouldn’t give you too much crap if you took a cab? A nice, anonymous cab ride there, not feeling like you need to be guarded every second you’re outside of the hotel, might be a decent change of pace.

*** I was wondering if I could interest you in coming over to my place?**

Something hard catches in your throat, and you’re definitely having trouble clearing it. He wants you to come _over?!_ Not to his restaurant or some other place, but like the place that he lives? Does he want you to stay the _NIGHT?_ _When did you start breathing funny?!_

Deep breaths, _____. Okay? _Relax_. Relax. _Whew_.

 *** Where are you in town?** Wait, are you _actually_ considering this? It’s only a second date! Sure, he’s really handsome and all, but… Well, whatever. _Screw_ it. There’s nothing that says you can’t indulge a little, especially not after such a spectacularly bad week.

*** I will send a car to pick you up. Where are you staying?**

You text him the address and run for the shower.

* * *

“ _Well,_ ” you contest, feeling a little scrutinized. “You _did_ say to wear something comfortable.”

It’s some kind of studio or open-concept apartment. And it’s nice… _Very_ nice.

The wide open space is full of very new, and very _expensive_ , furniture and electronics. Along one side is a kitchenette with a large built-in electric grill and stovetop next to a pair of ovens embedded into the wall next to it. Across from that is an island that has the sink and a raised bar counter on the outside of it, three stools lined up along it. The centre of the space is dominated by a very large, ivory-coloured couch, with a large navy shag carpet taking up the floor between it and a large window looking out at a balcony. To one side of the window is a large TV mounted on a corner stand, with a small number of books and DVD cases stacked neatly on the surface next to a DVD player.

Grillby ceases looking up and down, rumbling a charming laugh. “… I suppose I did,” he admits with a smirk. “Do come in.”

After that last disaster of a date, you _definitely_ wanted an outfit that was more honest to yourself and what you like, so when he invited you to ‘wear something comfortable’, you decided to get cheeky about it and come in your pj’s. But Grillby _does_ make you feel underdressed – he’s discarded the tie and vest as compared to last time, but still has his dress pants on and his collared dress shirt with the first button undone. You wonder if he’s always so fancy, or if he’s got a pair of sweat pants he hides in his wardrobe somewhere for when no one’s around to see him in them.

He backs up from the door a step so you can enter, then steps behind to shut it. While you’re distracted with fighting your way out of your winter boots, he slides your coat off of your shoulders, his familiar heat making your heart thump from the proximity.

“Uh-uhh, thanks,” you stammer out, knowing your flushed face is betraying _all_ of the dirty thoughts and feelings brought on by just his mere presence. “So, what’s for dinner?” you ask, attempting to bring your mind back to earth for a moment. “Not that, uhm, it _matters_ so much – _I mean it_ matters, but I just meant that, everything you make already tastes _amazing_ , so, like, it doesn’t _matter_ because I know it’ll be _perfect_ , I’m sure-“

A fiery indigo finger presses hotly against your lips to silence you. “… _Shhh_ ,” he coos softly, shifting in front of you and moving his hand to tilt your chin up so he can look deeply into your eyes. “We will prepare it together. Anything that is not to your liking can be easily modified,” he smoothly tells you. How is he so _incredible?_ It’s like he always knows _exactly_ what to do and say to make you melt the most.

Well, a late night out at a (literally) _flaming hot_ guy’s place, bumbling around his small kitchen area together cooking _amazing_ food? What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER NSFW WARNING: It's not-quite-but-almost smut. My hand slipped so it's actually a _whole lot dirtier_ than I originally intended. Whoopsies!
> 
> If you're not down for that for sensitivity reasons or just because you don't like this ship, context clues will be in the chapter after it. I *always* try to make sure the sin chapters don't have anything in them plot-wise that you would miss. You can always tell which ones are dirty by the asterisks in the chapter title.
> 
> ALSO: Because the next chapter is sins, I can't exactly do a poll on it, now can I? :P Here's a poll for the 'date' after this one:
> 
> A: Gaster  
>  ~~B: Grillbae~~  
>  C: Mettaton  
> D: Snas  
> E: Plot
> 
> ... Yes, I'm sorry. If you want Mettaton next you'll have to vote for him again. Show me how bad you want some hotbot time with your votes!


	50. The Dinner.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FILTHY TIMES AHEAD, FELLOW SINNERS >:) If you're not up for some hot human-on-Grillbae action, hit that next chapter button. You won't miss anything important.
> 
> Once I write it. Yeah. Check the bottom of the previous chapter for the poll that will help me shape that.

You startle while you’re whisking the sauce pot as hot fingertips make gentle trails up your sides. Grillby’s standing right behind you, almost pinning you to the counter, his heated breath brushing delicately past your ear.

“U-uhh, am I doing this right?” you ask worriedly, pausing your stirring for a moment while the chef checks your work.

His hands move to grip you more firmly by your waist, as he leans over your shoulder to take in a whiff of air over the warming liquid. His face ducks back behind you as a hand abruptly leaves your side, then reappears with the bottle of red wine as he splashes some into the pot. “… There. Now it’s excellent. Not to worry, you’re doing _very well_.” He practically _purrs_ that last part, both hands back at your sides tracing distracting circles on you through your clothes.

Something sizzles on the grill next to you, and you can hear a tiny sigh leave him as he reluctantly releases you to ensure the steak is coming up perfect. You risk a turn of your head to see him also pull a _couple_ of somethings from the fridge and set them on the counter for later. Ohh, are those his signature lava cakes? Your mouth waters automatically at the thought.

 _Jeebus_. If he invited you over for the single purpose of flustering the _crap_ out of you, then, mission _fucking_ accomplished. His touches were _many_ , but very gentle, and not _at all_ unwanted. Between that, the wine, and now the cakes revealed for dessert, it’s not hard to tell where he hopes tonight will go. But, are you ready for it? You’re not actually sure.

Then again, everything he’s doing makes you want to melt into a puddle already, so you think you might actually be okay with just about _anything_ he wants to do to you. And damn if that mental image doesn’t just send the _fiercest_ shudder up and down your spine.

“… Cold?” he asks, interrupting your lewd thoughts.

His arms slowly encircle your waist, gently brushing the palms of his heated hands over your stomach. You lean slightly into his warm chest, savouring his heat and running your own fingers along the back of one of his hands. It’s still a little odd for them to feel so incorporeal, but you’re getting slightly used to _sensing_ his presence instead of physically _feeling_ it.

“Definitely _not_.”

* * *

“Can I have the recipe for this tomato sauce?” you have to ask, after having your first bite of the ravioli. “This tastes _incredible_.”

Grillby’s casually leaned into the corner of the couch next to you, laughing warmly at your request. “… Of course, _____.”

“And, uh, maybe the ravioli too? I know that you _must_ have made them yourself, as there’s _no way_ these came from a store.” Is it greedy to ask for a chef’s recipes like that? But, honestly, they’re _so good_ it’s hard to resist.

“… Help yourself to any of my recipes that you’d like,” he offers genially, pleased at your interest. You briefly toy with the idea of stealing his recipe book. Would it fit into your bag? Then again, that battered old tome looked sort of fragile. Best not, then. You wouldn’t want to destroy an heirloom like that by shoving it carelessly into a knapsack.

Everything is absolutely perfect, of course – from the steak, to the ravioli, to the twice baked potatoes you’re sure he prepared specifically for you. They had bacon and cheddar cheese in them, and garnished with pepper, butter, and fresh chives, they were fantastic. He must’ve remembered your comment about liking bad food, because that definitely didn’t seem like a regular thing in his menu. The leftover red wine for the sauce was poured into glasses for the both of you, and it paired with everything on your plate just perfectly. Once finished eating, you don’t feel overstuffed, just extremely satisfied.

“Mmm,” you hum happily, leaning back into the fluffy couch. Do all monsters just have amazing livingroom furniture? A very warm set of fingers brushes a lock of your hair back away from your face, then carefully tucks it behind your ear before gently tracing the upper ridge of sensitive cartilage. You instinctively lean into the warm and faint touches.

“… Comfortable?” his smooth voice beckons for your attention.

You slowly open your eyes to see that he’s shifted to lean more towards you, and his smoky masculine scent lights up your senses. “Very much,” you nod happily. Then, feeling a bit giddy and adventurous from the wine, you crook a brow at him. “You _know_ ,” you flirt. “There _was_ _one_ thing I had last time that I didn’t get to fully enjoy.”

“… Oh?” he seems surprised, but a grin is pulling at the corner of his mouth. He definitely has an idea of where this is going.

“Mhmm,” you nod. Then, with a surge of wine-infused confidence, you lean in and kiss him.

His mouth eagerly meets with yours, melting with your gnashing lips as his hands come up to pull your body closer. You go easily, gripping at his dress shirt wantingly as he gently explores your body through your clothes. At the same moment that his fiery hand brushes under your shirt against your bare skin, his mouth parts a degree more and you greedily invade in search of his tongue. He tastes like perfectly cooked steak and wine.

His hands work their way further under your shirt, tracing your ribs through your skin, and then working their way to the back of your bra. He pulls away for just a moment, his flaming eyes somehow throwing you a hooded expression, before you push your chest into his as you press your lips against his once more, working the buttons of his shirt undone with clumsy fingers. You barely register that your bra’s been unhooked, at least until hot thumbs start teasing at the bottoms of your sensitive breasts, sending an irresistible shiver of passion through you. He weighs them carefully in the crooks of his hands, stroking the sides of them softly, before sliding his clever thumbs upwards to play at your hardened nipples.

Starved for more contact, you break off the kiss to rip your shirt off along with your bra, and he lets out a pleased growl at seeing your upper half bare. Hot arms wrap around you as he kisses you more deeply, pressing you down onto your back in the couch. You moan into his mouth at the feeling of being completely _surrounded_ by his heated presence, the flames licking at your skin harmlessly up and down your bare body. It's so hot to be pressed right against him, your body is covered with sweat just from his proximity, but his magic still fails to burn you.

He moves to nuzzle at your neck, one hand going low in between your legs, and you let out a startled gasp as he grazes your swollen nub through your completely soaked underwear. He rumbles pleasantly with each sound you make, as he works his hand further into your pants, carefully exploring, but not hesitating to rub at the parts that make your knees shake. He nibbles at your earlobe as he finds a spot to focus his attention on that keeps you making those sounds.

Your mind completely blanks at the focused attention on your clit, and you clench at his back with both hands, pinning his hot chest against yours so he doesn’t _dare_ move, doesn’t _ever_ stop because _oh god_ _yes_ , even through your panties it feels so _incredible_. It’s utterly _tantalizing_ and you begin to wonder whether he’s just going to _tease_ you like this the whole time, or whether he’s going to hurry up and tear them _off_ already so you can appreciate more skin-on-fire contact.

A tense knot suddenly forms in your stomach as your hazy mind starts to consider whether you actually _want_ to go all the way with him tonight. Is this moving too fast? Do you actually _know_ him well enough to sleep with him? Wait, how does sleeping with monsters actually _work_ , anyways?

This is… This is _wrong_.

You curse your brain for completely running the moment _when you were **so** close_ , squirming under him as if trying to wiggle away from his hand. He grunts and nips at your neck, as if taking your sudden change in motion as encouragement to continue. “ _Wait,_ ” you gasp breathlessly at the renewed assault on your pearl. “Wait, _stop_ _please_ ,” you beg.

He seems to grumble at that, but thankfully ceases his ministrations and removes his hand from your pants, gently pulling them back up to rest against your waist. He lifts his head from your hair, half-lidded eyes studying your panting expression. “… I pushed you,” he crackles, flaming mouth turning down into a frown.

“No, _no!_ You were _amazing_ , baby,” you coo up at him, stroking the side of his indigo face with a hand. One of his comes up to hold it as he kisses the skin of your palm warmly. “You were honestly _perfect_ and didn’t do a single thing wrong, I _swear_. I just… I got a little nervous that, maybe, we were moving too fast?” you tell him.

He sighs, seeming relieved. “… I see,” he finally says. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“Can we sit up?” you ask. He nods, straightening to a kneel and offering a hand to help you up. “Thanks,” you smile, taking it easily. As soon as you’re up his hands are on your sides again, and you chuckle at the sensual contact. “You’re seriously going to get me into trouble,” you scold, sighing wistfully.

He rumbles a laugh at that, amused. “… The evening is yours, _____. What would you like to do?”

“Hmm,” you think, turning in his arms so your back is to his bare chest. He moves to lean into the couch, cradling you against his body. “Tell me… A happy memory of yours,” you insist.

“… _You_ ,” he hums softly, kissing the top of your ear. “About thirty seconds ago.”

Giggling, you nudge him with your elbow. “You awful _flirt_. I _mean_ it, Grillby. I want to get to know you better.”

“… Very well, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*fans self* Wowie._ Honestly, if I didn't ship it a _tiny_ bit, I wouldn't have written it XD Besides, this fic is already fifty chapters deep and Reader's barely had any action yet.
> 
> Next chapter starts with some Undyne, then goes into whatever you guys voted for on the last one. <3


	51. The Rules.

“Undyne, how do you fuck a fire?”

The mermaid warrior blinks at you, surprised, then crooks a scaly brow. “How do _I_ fuck a fire, or how do _you_ fuck a fire?” she asks.

Wait, is there a difference? Whatever. “Okay, fine. Undyne, how do _I_ fuck a fire?” you clarify.

“Well, I’d imagine very carefully.”

“ _Undyne_.”

She chortles uncomfortably, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe, clearly enjoying your ire. “Are you seriously asking me for a monster sex talk, nerd?” she rasps.

“I mean,” you blush. “I guess? He’s _clearly_ ready to take it to the next level.”

“Are _you?_ ”

Your blush gets hotter as you look away apprehensively. “Well, uh, I’m not _disliking_ the attention. Nor am I totally _opposed_ to the idea… I just want to be prepared, if we _do_ go that far.” You look down at your arms, noticing your hand went to hold your opposite elbow in a defensive posture. When did you do that? Dropping your hand, you awkwardly shove both into your coat pockets.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, punk. You know that right?”

“I know,” you smile, thankful for her edgy protectiveness. “Thanks.”

“Whatever. Get in here and grab a beer, I’ll tell you all about the monster birds and the bees if you really want,” she invites.

Undyne is seriously the best.

* * *

 

“Okay, so, you guys mix _magic_ or something somehow?” you have to ask after a long, and _exceptionally_ awkward, conversation with your fish friend.

“I guess that’s _one_ way to put it,” she chuckles, nursing her beer. “But monsters and humans can still get it on – we just form whatever parts we need to do the _do_ , and, you _know_ ,” she shrugs, a reddening to the teal scales of her face giving her away.

“Sorry, does this make you uncomfortable?” you fret. “I just didn’t think it’d be a good idea to ask Sans, since he’s got a crush on me and everything.”

She sets the mouth of the bottle against hers and tilts it back, taking a loud gulp of it. “Ahh, it’s whatever nerd. Just not a subject I actually thought I’d be talking about today,” she chuckles.

But, wait - how does all of this apply when you’re supposedly a _mage?_ You open your mouth to ask, and then remember Sans’ warning early on about being a mage – it’s not safe to tell either monsters or humans about your magic potential. Would Undyne be someone you could trust to tell?

“Something on your mind nerd?” she asks, arching a scarred eyebrow at you on the couch next to her.

“I was just thinking… Then, there’s _no way_ monsters and humans could have _kids_ or anything then… _Right?_ ” you ask.

“Pffft, _no_ ,” she cackles. “How would _that_ even work? Humans don’t have magic, or at least, no humans _I’ve_ ever met besides the Queen’s twerps, and even _then_ , we’re made of like, completely different _stuff_.” She leans forward to sit up and sets the open beer on the coffee table, next to three empty ones, then aggressively points her whole hand in your face. “ _You’re_ all flesh and blood and other goopy stuff I’m already too buzzed to get into,” she accuses, then turns her hand at herself. “And me? I’m all dust held together by magic.”

“Right,” you agree, sipping at your own beer bottle. “That makes total sense. Thanks, Undyne.” When she’d talked about mixing magic earlier, you worried (Or maybe hoped? If this thing with Grillby goes long-term, that is) that maybe you’d be different. But, getting a reality check on the very _different_ physical nature between yourself and monsters was very reassuring.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have _fun_ though,” she snickers while you blush. “Besides, even if you _could_ have kids? With monsters, nobody can get knocked up unless they both want it. It’s a feeling deep in your soul, and it’s not easy to change your mind on it. I think it’s safe to say that Grillby’s in the ‘just for fun’ camp, so he’s not going to have kids and his soul’s pretty firmly decided on that.”

Well, your birth control is probably pointless, then. “ _Wait_. Hang on a sec… Monsters literally _can’t_ have accidental pregnancies?” you blink.

She pauses raising her beer to her mouth, the space between her eyes scrunching up in mild confusion. Then she turns to you, eyes wide with shock. “You mean humans _CAN!?_ ”

Oh geez. Now it looks like it’s _your_ turn to go over the birds and the bees. You look at the bottle in your hand, then take a drink to finish it off and set it down. “Let me have another beer and I’ll tell you all about it.”

* * *

Sans was _not_ in a good place right now.

Well, where he is, _physically_ , isn’t the greatest of places either, but mentally, he’s a _mess_. He kicks a rock near his foot off the roof of the parking garage, watching it pass under the barricade and sail down to the streets below. Monsters had decent night vision – it was evolutionary having lived underground for about a thousand years or so – but the streetlights flooded the frozen sidewalk so much he couldn’t see where it landed in the snow.

What he wouldn’t give to _destroy_ something for some fucking _catharsis_ right now.

You went over to Grillby’s apartment. _Alone_. And you didn’t tell him.

He’s not sure which part of that he hates the _most_.

Is it the idea that you don’t trust him? You _said_ that you do, and he’s still not completely sure what to take from that, but he’d thought that you’d tell him things like that. He’d asked you to tell him everything, but you kept this from him. Why?

Is it because you went there by yourself? You didn’t call for his protection. Sure you took a cab to get there, but there’s no telling who in this fucking city knows you with that video online, nor who might belong to the idiot ‘hunter’ group he’s recently discovered. They liked monsters very little, and they liked humans who associated with them even less.

Or is it because it was _Grillby?_ He’s surely using his boss monster ability on you to make you compliant, but assuming that’s _true_ , then you’re _definitely_ not going to want to hear any talk of him being bad for you. If anything you’d probably _fight_ him if he suggested it, knowing how much Wrath you’re capable of first hand. Magic or not, your head was firmly in the early lovesick phase for that overgrown walking _campfire_.

“Hey _monster!_ ”

He grumbles as he slowly turns towards the voice. There’s someone standing in the light of the open door to the stairwell, a human silhouette, holding a metal baseball bat. A group of three more men come out of the stairwell behind him.

… Oh look.

Something to _destroy_.

Sans chuckles deeply. “ **did i crash your dumb meeting?** ” he rasps, grinning broadly.

“The bounty on your head just recently _doubled_ ,” the human grins greedily. “It’s still _plenty_ of dough when split four ways.”

He’s flattered. He didn’t know they’d post a bounty on him. “ **how much is it?** ”

“… What?”

“ **how much am i worth to you if you dust me?** ” he rumbles. “ **it ain’t a difficult question.** ”

He glances back at his buddies. They shrug in uncertain response. “It’s, uh, sixty thousand now,” he finally answers.

“ **tch. that’s fucking _low_ ,**” he scoffs, slightly insulted now. “ **i’m offended.** ”

The idiot goes to open his mouth, but it’s too late now. Sans is already standing behind him.

He leans in to whisper. “ ** _i’m_ worth _way_ _more_.** ”

An animalistic shriek erupts through the small group, but Sans is already out of the way when they all start swinging. He didn’t see the improvised weapons three of them were holding, so he almost winces in sympathetic pain when they collide with each other. _Almost_. Two fools hit the ground, one holding his face and writhing in agony, while the other tries to climb back to his feet. The other two are looking all around for where the skeleton went.

“ **now _that_ looked like it hurt,** ” Sans chuckles from the shadows.

“Over there!”

“Grab him!”

 _Good._ He wasn’t finished with them yet.

Two humans charge in the direction of his voice, but they can’t see where they’re going as they get further away from the exit door to the stairwell. The top layer of the parking garage had none of the lights left working, and it was too late at night for any normal person to care. But right now, Sans had a huge advantage as they suddenly find themselves fumbling in the dark.

“ **need a light?** ” he offers darkly. “ **here, let me get that for ya.** ”

Shocked gasps tickle his funny bone as he hacks a laugh, raising a hand and summoning some blasters. Just three. One for each of the idiots, just to get the point across. Their mouths start to fill with light.

“Y-you _can’t!_ ” one of them yelps. “Monsters c-can’t use magic attacks on people!”

Oh right, because the cops don’t like it.

Well, it’s not like they could ever hold him anyway.

“ **who says i’m aiming them at _you?_** ”

The blasters spin in the air to point at the pavement underneath them, unleashing their devastating attack and knocking a huge hole in the ground the three of them fall through. When he ‘ports down to greet them, he’s already leaning his back and elbows on the railing by the time they collect themselves.

“ **nice of you to drop in,** ” he hums delightedly.

“ _Fuck_ my ankle!” he squeals.

One moron is clutching his leg. Did he seriously break it? The fall was only ten feet. _Maybe_. Well, _whatever_. So long as he hasn’t physically touched any of them or used magic against them, he hasn’t broken any rules.

Bending them was _way_ more fun.

The first guy, the talker, collects himself and closes in before Sans anticipates it. He dodges one swing of the metal bat, then another, before thinking about how much he _hates_ to be on the defensive. He gets an idea.

He dodges swing after swing, then stumbles a step as he takes a hit to his ribs. _Fuck_ , this asshole hit him _hard_. He’s sure he’s got a cracked a rib or two out of the deal.

“Got you now, skeleton!” he celebrates, bringing his bat up to swing again.

Right as the bat’s coming back down for a splitting strike on the kneeling monster’s skull, the skeleton gets out of the way.

Sans watches as he yells in surprise, his momentum sending him over the railing, and panics. In the blink of an eye socket, he ports over to grab the guy’s leg and pull him back up, throwing him by the ankle a couple feet away. There. Now, the human might just have a bruised ass, instead of a cracked skull of his own. He’s glad that he let go of the bat, having heard it ping loudly against the pavement three floors below.

It’s at this moment that Sans realizes the last guy has a gun.

“ **hey kid,** ” he growls lowly. “ **didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with guns?** ”

He gulps as he pulls back on the hammer. “O-one good hit, a-and you’re _dust_ ,” he stammers. He’s shaking like a leaf.

“ **heh. take your best shot.** ”

Sans is surprised when he actually _fires_ it, but he barely needs to move to ensure it misses him entirely. The skeleton starts walking towards him. The human fires again, and it nearly clips his clavicle, ruffling the brown fur-lined collar. Wow. His aim is _shit_. Sans continues his steady pace over to him.

“D-don’t come any closer!” he warns uselessly.

Another shot. Sans grumbles. It completely missed his ribs, spine, and pelvic bones, but now he’s got a damn hole in his favourite jacket.

As soon as he’s close enough, he grips the pistol in the fool’s outstretched hands, lifting it away from him. “ **guns are dangerous,** ” he snarls angrily. Clenching his massive hard ivory mitt around it, he feels the metal bend and twist as parts pop out of place and fall to the ground. “ **little boys like you shouldn’t be playing with ‘em.** ”

The kid gulps loudly. Geez, he barely looks fifteen. “I-i-is this the p-part wh-where, you, u-uhh…?”

“ **where i uh-uh-uh _what?_** ” he demands, grinning wildly as he continues to intimidate him with just his height, proximity, and sharp smile.

“Are you gunna… um… k-kill me?” He looks about to piss himself. Poor kid.

“ **pfft. _naw_ ,**” he rumbles, amused. “ **you can pick your dumbass friends up and get the fuck outta here, i don’t care. after all,** ” he chuckles. “ **i already had a _great_ time.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Required reading: [Link](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/155398875400/underfell-rant-3-third-times-hopefully-the)
> 
> Can I just tell my story now?? _Please???_
> 
> Next chapter will be more Sans, then the next will be Metts since he got neglected. And _then_ we'll do a vote again, alright?
> 
>  
> 
> _*buries self in blankets and ice cream*_


	52. The Alliance.

“Sorry, are you…?”

The young man stands up from the table and offers a hand. “Andrew Cross,” he introduces. Better to have a name than a pseudonym. He wasn’t really keen on calling his new ally ‘Darkmoon’ all night.

“Derrick Smith,” he replies, accepting the handshake. “Have I seen you at golf before?” he asks, suddenly noticing some familiarity.

“The course out by Petrie?” Derrick nods. “Perhaps. I’ve been a couple times,” he shrugs.

“I see.”

Taking a seat across from him at the dark wooden table in the dimly lit bar, Andrew slouches against the table, cradling his drink in both hands ahead of himself. A waitress stops by and Derrick orders one of his own.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Derrick suggests. “All of your posts on the boards, they all have something to do with _____ _____, do they not?”

His head perks up at your name and he straightens his posture. “How’d you guess?”

“I had a feeling,” Derrick says. “Many of them have been seen with her or in photos of her as of late.”

“Do you know her?”

He nods. “She’s in my computer networking class. That skeleton you have a high listing for, for thirty thousand? He’s with her before school and after every day, and the snippets of conversation I’ve overheard between them suggests they’re close.”

Andrew rumbles sourly at that, taking a large gulp of his drink. “He’s not using magic on her, is he?” he asks, eyes solemn with concern.

“… He is.”

“ ** _Fuck_** _,_ ” he snarls, raising the glass for another swig, then setting it down hard as he gulps loudly. “I fuckin’ _knew_ it.”

“I take it you’re concerned that their magic is manipulating her, as well?” Derrick inquires.

“I _know_ it is,” he huffs, taking his drink. “I’ve experienced it firsthand,” he adds with an uncomfortable shudder.

Derrick blinks, then his expression gets hard. “Care to explain that?”

At that, his companion withdraws his phone from his jeans pocket, throwing it onto the table in front of him and punching in the lock code. A couple taps later, he has the forum open to a thread about the girl with red eyes.

“… The human child?” Derrick questions.

“I don’t think she’s actually _human_ ,” Andrew insists. “Ran into _____ at the mall with this _brat_ and several other monsters a while back. This… _Whatever_ she is, introduced herself as the Princess of All Monsters. Implying some connection to Queen Toriel herself.”

Derrick says nothing, just nods to acknowledge he’d heard him so he’ll continue.

“Anyways, I _thought_ she was in trouble, so I tried to get _____ _away_ from the monsters, but this _thing_ got in the way, and so did that fish warrior _bitch_ and their creepy robot.”

“What happened next?”

“What do you think?” Andrew scoffs bemusedly, finishing off his drink. “I left the mall and went home.”

Derrick blinks. “P- _pardon??_ ” That makes absolutely _no sense_.

“It _seemed_ like it was completely my idea, y’know, at the _time_ ,” Andrew grumbles, slumping into the table again. His hands grip the sleeves of his black leather jacket anxiously. “But later, I know that’s _not_ what I would’ve done. I would’ve fought, I would’ve tried to get _____ away again, I would’ve done _literally anything else_ besides just _leave_ , you know?”

“… She used _magic_ on you?!”

He taps his forehead as he grins darkly. “She must’ve done something to get in my head and change my mind. I’m sure of it. I’ve started seeing a therapist, experts, whomever it would make sense to, to _deprogram_ me, but I have no idea what anyone can really do to fix it,” he continues. “For all I know, she’s put suggestions in my head, triggers or something, to make me do things I wouldn’t normally. Like a sleeper agent for the monsters.”

The waitress returns for the empty glass and Andrew orders another long island iced tea, leaving Derrick to ponder this horrifying development.

“… If you’re worried that I’m going to turn on you, all I can say is that, _so far_ , I seem to be of sound mind,” he attempts to placate him. “That’s part of the reason why I want these monsters taken care of quickly, before my mind can be changed again.”

“That isn’t the reason for my concern at the moment- although it is _very_ concerning,” the better dressed of the two gentlemen attests. “My thinking is that you’ve just confirmed a theory of mine, although not one I _ever_ wanted to be confirmed. Monsters _can_ use magic to manipulate others, and likely _are_ using it to manipulate _____.” He grits his teeth in anger. “No wonder she is so overly protective of… Of _them_. Their programming of her must be _much_ more thorough. I wish I knew what they want her for,” he mumbles.

“Huh?” Andrew blinks. “What was that?”

Derrick sighs and rests his clasped hands on the table, tensing his hands against each other in order to hold himself together. “She also associates with another skeleton, whom I’m not sure you’re aware of, but introduces himself as the ‘royal scientist’,” he elaborates. “And, he said something interesting to me the other day. That _____ is important to ‘the future of humans and monsters.’”

“They’re _planning something_ for her,” Andrew gasps, hissing air through his teeth.

Derrick nods solemnly. The waitress appears briefly to offer the gentlemen their drinks. Andrew immediately takes his and downs a third of it, while the other young man just cradles his rum and coke glass between his hands.

“… _Fffuck_ ,” he slurs. “What the _hell_ can _we_ do?!”

“I _do_ have some recommendations on that front,” Derrick offers. Releasing his drink, he retrieves his phone from his pocket. A few taps later and he has a banking app open. “I want to match your bounty for the wider-set skeleton, and I _also_ intend to post one for the scientist as well. Here is proof I can make payment,” he says, turning the screen towards his new ally.

“ _Shit_ ,” the ally hums, impressed. “Well, so long as I’m still sane, I appreciate the support.”

“While we’re at it,” he continues. “I believe we should attempt to coordinate the ‘hunting’ groups better. Perhaps we could get more information about schedules and the like. I can submit my class schedule of course, since _____ shares it, but I’m certain that with our combined efforts we can find out where else the skeletons go to and when.”

“That’s definitely a better plan than what everyone’s already been trying,” he admits, darkly amused. “Well, I see no reason why not to work together then. How about it?” he asks, raising his beverage in a toast.

Derrick raises his own glass and taps it gently against his companion’s, taking a small sample of the mix. Andrew on the other hand takes a much longer sip of his long island. He seems to go through them fast, Derrick thinks. It’s a little disconcerting.

“Say, before we part ways,” he offers. “I was wondering as to the nature of your connection with _____?”

Andrew scowls drunkenly into his glass. “She was my girlfriend before all the monsters showed up.”

“Really?” he balks. Is their hold on you _that_ powerful?

“What’s yours?”

“Just a friend and classmate acting out of concern,” he claims.

“I see. Well, lookin’ forward to working with you,” he beams.

If he’d ease off the alcohol, then perhaps he could say the same, Derrick silently muses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background villain exposition! Sorry for the brief Sans-time denial, he's going up with the very next chapter which I am posting right after this. It's done already and I think you'll love it :)
> 
> So close, and yet so far...


	53. The Walk.

**“you sure you don’t want a teleport today?”**

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you nod, grabbing your bag and heaving it onto your shoulder. “Let’s walk.”

**“alright, sweetheart. you’re the boss.”**

“The _boss_ , huh?” you catch, grinning slyly up at him.

 **“don’t let it go to your head,”** he groans.

“I can make no promises,” you tease. 

* * *

 

“Soo, uh…” you say, breaking the awkward silence. “I went over to Grillby’s place on Saturday.”

Sans resists grinding his teeth. He didn’t need the reminder. **“oh?”**

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t say anything to you, I just thought it would be weird,” you apologize needlessly. “He sent a cab, so, I figured that would be safe enough.”

 **”how was it?”** he asks.

“It was… Nice. _Really_ nice,” you fluster, and he stifles a groan at that. “But…”

… Wait. There’s a but? **“ _but…?_ ”**

“… He’s not a very open guy, is he?”

He’s… Surprised? Elated? Let’s go with surprised. He needs more information first, before he jumps to any conclusions though. **“how do you mean?”** he pries.

“Well,” you begin. “We made dinner together, which was amazing, but he didn’t offer a whole lot of feedback on what I was doing like I thought he would. I mean, he _is_ a _chef_. Then, after dinner, he was giving me _serious_ bedroom eyes, so, I kissed him… We made out, he kind of _ran the bases_ a little bit, but, I stopped him. I wasn’t ready for that. Uh, _whoa_ , are you alright? _Sans?!_ ”

He picks himself up off the ground, trying to dust the snow out of his clothes. **“i just tripped. no big deal.”**

“You walked into a _stop sign!_ ”

**“well, it shouldn’ve been in my way.”**

“Your, uh, the bridge of your nose… Hole? It looks _cracked_.”

He taps his face experimentally, then shrugs. **“it’ll heal. don’t worry about it.”**

“Seriously, are you _okay?_ ”

Once he collects himself, he looks down at you. Beautiful, amazing _you_ , and wishes he could _kiss_ you right now.

You were _resisting_ Grillby’s magic, and you had _no idea you were doing it_. Passively, just on your own, pushing against the damn torch’s Amplify ability like it was _nothing_.

No one had _ever_ done that before.

Just how powerful _are_ you?

“Okay, now _you’re_ the one giving me bedroom eyes,” you cringe. “Please stop?”

… Whoops. He flusters, trying to redirect the magic collecting in his cheekbones somewhere else. No, not there. At least, not until later. Shaking his head seems to help rid him of _those_ particular thoughts for the time being.

 **“you had something you wanted to tell me?”** he asks.

“Well, _now_ I’m not so sure,” you reply cautiously.

 **“come on,”** he groans. **“so i leered at ya a little bit. you’re _hot_ , you _know_ this, these things happen. i still wanna know what’s on your mind, sweetheart. you wanted to talk, so talk.”**

You let out a small sigh. “… I’m just not sure where this is going.”

Wait, are you talking about him or about _Grillby_ again?

A beat later you clarify. “After all, um, that, we sat and talked for two straight hours, and, in hindsight? I _still_ don’t feel like I know anything _about_ him,” you explain. “He was pretty closed off to answering most of my questions about himself, and spent most of the time just trying to push my buttons so we’d make out again or something.”

Sans works his jaw in anger. **“and what did you think about that?”**

“ _Wellllll_ … Maybe I kind of _like_ , uh, having my buttons pushed sometimes,” you suggest with a blush, glancing away and turtling your neck into your sweater. “You know, just a _little_.”

 **“ _really_ now,”** he grins down at you. **“maybe i should give it a try sometime.”**

“ _Sans…_ ”

He steps into you to give you a playful nudge. **“just teasing sweetheart,”** he winks.

You stop in your tracks, frowning about something. He briefly toys with the idea of tracing that puffed up lower lip with his distal phalanges. It looks soft.

“Geez, we’re here already?” you complain. “That walk is _seriously_ too short.”

The skeleton looks up from your face to the entrance doors into the mall. He can’t help but agree.

 **“i could find you a farther hotel?”** he suggests with a chuckle.

“Though it’s nice to have a bed, I’ve almost had _enough_ of living out of a hotel,” you groan. “It’s _weird_ not having control over my own space, you know? They clean the room while I’m in class, so it’s always _immaculate_ when I get back.”

**“speaking of class…”**

“Oh, right.”

He rides the escalator down to your school with you, then he walks you into the student lobby just outside your classroom door.

“Hey, Sans.”

His skull perks up at your voice saying his name. **“yeah?”**

“Can I have a hug?” you ask, opening your arms for him.

He raises a large arm of his own to receive you, resting his large hand against the small of your back as he draws you in. You wrap both of your hands around his cervical vertebrae, gently noticing the hard bumps and joints with the warm fleshy pads of your fingertips. His soul involuntarily shivers so close to yours, that red colour unfalteringly bright and humming with energy - _your_ energy. He rests his chin into your hair, just savouring the moment.

“And… Can I have my bag, too?” you pull away slightly to smile.

 **“… right.”** He unslings it from his shoulder and offers it to you as you take a step back out of the embrace.

“Thanks, Sans,” you say.

He’s a little surprised at himself that he doesn’t flinch when you grab his shirt and pull him down. Those soft, warm lips suddenly assault his hard cheekbone in a gentle kiss, and he nearly shudders at the contact. To you, it’s just a parting with a good friend. To him, it’s everything that means _anything_ to him in this world.

Sans sighs, watching your back with a soft expression as you disappear through the doorway.

You like him.

You spent every day, twice a day, walking with him places bantering back and forth. Despite your protests about his earlier grabbiness, you still went in for a hug, your hair tickling his exposed bones while nuzzling your face into the fur of his jacket and revelling in his warmth. Most evenings and weekends, you sought to spend time with him watching movies or playing video games, and you almost _never_ turned down an invite. Whenever you’re in a bind or just feeling down about something, he’s the first person you call for help.

You let him into your personal space, let him wrap his arm around you while watching B5, and even are comfortable with him sleeping next to or at least in the same room as you. Those little ‘friendly’ pecks on the cheekbones of yours weren’t something you did with just anyone, either. He knew that much.

And then there was that kiss here at the mall the other day, with the mistletoe some lazy employee never bothered to take down. _Why_ would you do that, if your feelings for him were _entirely_ platonic? If your hand hadn’t been up, that would’ve been _quite_ the kiss.

Sans _knows_ you like him. He’s just trying to stay patient while he waits for you to figure it out, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Mettadate time :) It's another video, so if you have any questions for Fell!Mettaton, now's the time to ask them!


	54. The Diva.

“Is Captain Papyrus home?”

The metal man looks mildly apprehensive at the apartment’s threshold. Sans grunts behind you as you step aside to let the robot in.

“You just missed him actually - he’s left for training or something,” you offer. “Oh, did you want to say hi?”

His four red and yellow eyes blink at you in confusion. “No… That is quite alright, darling,” he coos, unslinging his laptop bag and moving hastily into the livingroom. He drops the bag _on_ Sans, who is minding his own business sitting at the end of the couch. He snarls up at the robot as you jog over to grab the bag off of him, smiling apologetically at your skeleton bud.

“ **nice to see you too,** ” he hisses sarcastically.

You figured it’d be better for Sans’ comfort if you and Mettaton went over the details of the next video with him in the room, which is why you’d asked if you could work on it at his place instead of at the hotel. He’d been very receptive to the idea, almost like he was about to suggest it himself when you first mentioned it. Although, he was _still_ pretty salty about you hanging out with Mettaton _at all_.

How could you resist, though? The robot was an instant success, and it was a little bit gratifying to be part of his swift rise to Internet fame.

Shaking your head and sighing at the situation you’ve created, you sit down next to Sans and start unpacking Mettaton’s laptop.

“I’ve separated out the questions on the comments of the last video that I think would be best for you to answer,” you explain, sliding the computer out of the bag and turning it on. “I think I e-mailed you the list already?” you highlight.

“I saw the list darling,” he sighs dramatically, flicking his odd wiry metal hair about as he turns back towards you. “However, I think we can expand on it with some of your rejected questions.”

You wrinkle your nose at that. “Seriously? I thought the point was for people to get to know monsters, not indulge in their kinks.”

“ **wait what’s this now?** ” Sans looks over at you questioningly.

“Well…” you hum, opening up the e-mail client on the computer resting on your knees. “The questions I picked out were stuff along the lines of ‘If you had three wishes, what you would wish for’ and ‘how does he manage shirts with four arms’, things like that,” you explain.

“Which I feel are _much_ too tame,” the robot gently protests.

“Right…”

“ **and, what kinda questions did you want to leave out?** ” he presses curiously.

“Stuff like ‘how do you use your arms in the bedroom’, ‘any favourite kinks’, someone actually posted ‘can I sex you’, and another asker hit him with ‘would you smooch a skeleton’,” you drone off.

“Ooooh!” Mettaton perks up. “I missed that last one! My response would almost certainly be ‘Which skeleton’?” he flirts.

“ **not this one,** ” Sans grumbles defensively, shifting uncomfortably in his spot.

You glance over at his flushed face and sputter a short laugh. His red eye glances over at you as a smile tugs at his wide mouth. Man, the mental image of those two kissing is just too much for your brain.

“Sans, would you be so kind as to fetch dinner for us while we get ourselves sorted?” Mettaton smoothly requests.

Sans raises a brow bone at that, glancing between you and the metal man.

“… Seriously?” you interject, annoyed. “You _just_ got here and you’re now kicking him out of his own _apartment?_ ”

His four red eyes blink at you in slight confusion. “Well, _I_ thought, since he is not directly involved in our creative process, perhaps he would do us this little favour?” he highlights, clasping a pair of hands together.

The massive skeleton shifts to stand up from his spot next to you, surprising you. “ **whatever, i want a burger anyway. what do you want, sweetheart?** ” he asks as he slides his hands into his pockets.

“Sans,” you huff. “You don’t have to _leave_.”

“ **we don’t really have any grub here, so i was gunna go out for something anyway,** ” he explains nonchalantly, shrugging. “ **i’m going to hit harveys. tell me what you want already.** ”

“Uh…” you hum, suddenly put on the spot. “Just a regular burger with pickles and mustard is fine, I guess. _Oh_ , and a poutine.”

“ ** _extra_ mustard?** ” he grins. “ **got it.** ”

“ _Nooo!_ ” you whine in protest. “Just a _normal amount_ of mustard.”

“ **a ‘normal’ amount. got it.** ” His grin gets wider.

“Like, an ACTUALLY normal amount! Not a YOU normal amount,” you hiss. Fucking Sans and his pranks.

“ **ruin all my fun why don’cha,** ” he rumbles jovially.

“I _mean_ it Sans, don’t ruin my food!”

“ **i’d argue i’d be improving on it.** ”

“If there’s too much mustard on my damn burger I’m going to wipe it off _on you!_ ” you threaten.

His eye sockets widen with his teasing smile. “ **whoa. _kinky_.** ”

You gasp. “OH MY _GOD_ , SANS!”

He chuckles. “ **back in a bit sweetheart,** ” he winks. “ **try not to have too much fun without me.** ”

“We make no promises!” Mettaton teases him.

With your annoyed banter back and forth with Sans, you’d almost completely forgotten about him being here. Whoops.

Sans glowers threateningly at the other man in the room, and it sends a sudden chill down your spine. “ **don’t get any funny ideas with _____, or _else_.** ”

“Or else… _What?_ ” he grins challengingly.

“ **or else i’ll twist your fuckin’ _nuts_ off, is _what_ ,**” he growls. “ **back in a flash.** ”

Sans disappears as you hang your head. You glance up at the only other occupant of the apartment, whose four red eyes have taken on a faraway expression at the space that the skeleton just left.

“Uh, hey… Maybe we could get started on the questions?” you attempt to bring his focus back.

“Right!” he beams, snapping his gaze to you. “Of _course_ , darling, let’s begin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only the first half of this, I'm struggling a bit with the next part but thought I'd get this out there for you guys first ;) Also yeah, I totally wrote Sans into the scene and then immediately wrote him out. Trust me, it sort of works XD I just love writing him with Reader too much!


	55. The Ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a really awkward and non-con kiss but it's over fast and there are no further boundaries pushed.

“First off, I’m really not sure what kind of image you want to convey here,” you hum, leaning back into the couch as you tap away at the laptop. It’s really squishy and soft, actually. As far as couches go, this thing is ten out of ten. “You _really_ want to answer some of the kink questions? On _video?_ ”

“ _Well_ ,” he ponders, sliding in to sit next to you, opposite of where Sans was previously. “I suppose I _must_ defer to your wisdom in these matters. What do _you_ think?”

“If it were me, I’d just ignore them, to be perfectly honest. Maybe even delete those comments off the last video entirely. They’re objectifying, kind of _rude_ , and whittle down your whole person to just what ‘features’ you might have in the context of sex,” you explain. You wonder idly how often famous Hollywood stars have to deal with this stuff.

“While you’ve made your case, and though it _does_ make sense,” he ponders, a metal hand coming to his chin thoughtfully. “… I am quite _hesitant_ to dismiss _any_ of my new fans or their inquiries.”

“You don’t have to do _everything_ anyone asks you to, you know,” you inform him. “You’re not their _doll_.”

“… What if I _want_ to be?”

“… What?”

“What if I want to be their ‘doll’, as you put it?” he asks again.

You blink a couple times as your brain attempts to catch up. “You’re saying you don’t mind it _at all?_ ”

“Not particularly,” he hums. “After all darling, I _do_ want to be a star again one day. How am I supposed to rise up if I start out with rejecting all the questions that might make my fans swoon for me? After all,” he notes, looking down at his chassis and dragging one pair of hands and their fingertips along it sensually. “Do you think I had this body made to _hide_ it?”

… It hits you like a ton of bricks.

Obviously, not everyone shares your issues with being put on a pedestal and treated for how you look like instead of who you are underneath, and you’re well aware of that. But, Mettaton is your _exact opposite_. He _craves_ the attention, the glamour, and actively seeks it out. That’s _why_ he wanted to get into doing a show in the first place. You shy away from the spotlight for what it reminds you of, because it makes you feel less like a person, but the handsome robot nestled into the couch right next to you? He was, literally, _born_ for it.

“Well… _Huh_ ,” you stumble. “I think you just shattered my worldview there Mettaton.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No, I mean… _Sorry_ ,” you sigh. “I’m sorry, really. I was thinking in terms of _me_ and how _I_ would prefer to be treated, when I _should’ve_ been thinking about what _you_ want. This is _your_ show – I shouldn’t be raining on your parade just because it’s not something that I would totally agree with. I’m just reading off questions for you, I otherwise have no part in it.”

“You _do_ have a part in it, darling, of _course_ you do,” he coos, and suddenly there are two metal fingers caressing your face. “ _You’re_ my dear _muse_ , and are helping me to understand what humans want.”

“Well… Even still, I shouldn’t be trying to change it due to my own hang-ups.”

“It’s forgotten,” he softly chuckles. “Shall we get started?”

“Sure, I’m just sort of wondering what’s taking Sans so long to get our food,” you grumble, feeling quite hungry by now. It _is_ fast food, or at least it’s _supposed_ to be, and the dude can literally teleport. He’s been gone about an hour already. “I’m going to send him a text, and then I guess we might as well get this show on the road. Go ahead and turn on the camera.”

* * *

“Hey Mettaton, what’s your favourite thing about the surface?”

“The _people_ , of course!” he cheers happily.

“Kiss-ass,” you tease.

“I’m completely sincere, darling,” he purrs to you. “You are all so diverse and _fascinating_ to me, and oh so _creative_ , it’s wonderful!”

Rolling your eyes at that, you move on to the next question. “Do you ever miss anything from the Underground?”

“Hmm… I suppose the thing I miss the most is my old show, but it wanes with every video we do aboveground!” he cheers.

“What _did_ you do Underground, anyways?”

“You always ask me that question,” he points out.

“Well, _yeah_ , because you never answer it.”

He hums. “Today’s not the day for it. Nor do I want to get into the gritty details on video.”

“… Alright, fine,” you sigh. “But one of these days…”

“ _One_ of these days, certainly. Not today,” he dismisses.

“Mettaton - If you could choose one monster or human apart from me to have in one of your videos, who would it be and why?”

He chuckles at that. “I honestly can’t think of anyone better than _you_ , dear _____,” he flatters you.

“How about Captain Papyrus?”

The robot stalls, four eyes widening in shock. You cheeky little _minx_.

You inelegantly point at him and laugh. “HAH! Knew it! No _wonder_ you asked about him as soon as you got here!”

He straightens and folds both pairs of arms in front of himself. “We’re editing that _out_ of the final product,” he declares coldly.

“Aw come on, I _totally_ guessed your secret crush!” you tease.

“Moving on, darling!”

“Alright alright,” you sigh. “Mettaton, what’s your deal with shirts, having four arms and everything?”

He grins, spreading his arms out for the camera to show, pulling on one of his sleeves for emphasis. “Underground almost every article of clothing was custom-tailored since monsters quite literally come in all shapes and sizes – _this_ old thing would be a perfect example of that. On the surface, however, tailoring is a great deal more _expensive_ , so I must often resort to shirts with large arm holes to accommodate.”

“You hinted in our last video that you have some input on your design. So, why _did_ you want four arms and eyes, anyway?”

Mettaton chuckles, and then he takes on a slightly somber expression. “Monster society is very… _Different_ from humans. It can be a very contentious environment to live in, and there is a lot of emphasis on strength and power. When I first consulted with Dr. Alphys on my form, in addition to my _handsome_ looks, I also asked what she thought would be intimidating. She recommended an unusual number of eyes and limbs towards that goal, and I bowed to her expertise.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” you concede. “I didn’t think of it like that before.”

“I am, unfortunately, _not_ a boss monster,” he adds. “Before surfacing, I had to take _far_ more care in avoiding conflict with others. Intimidation has proven to be a useful tool.”

“Let’s move on to something lighter, then. Mettaton, what is your preferred gender?”

His four eyes blink in mild confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“I guess, from your response, this isn’t something monsters think about, huh? I can explain if you’d like.”

“Please, enlighten me!”

“Well,” you begin, gesturing to yourself. “I’m female, obviously, and I identify with female. That’s pretty much the majority of women right there. _However_ , there _are_ some people out there who are born male or female, biologically, but they actually identify with the gender that doesn’t match their body. So, some men, or _biological_ males, rather, are actually more comfortable presenting themselves as _female_ , and vice versa.”

“… I see!”

“It’s kind of a recently-acknowledged thing in society, so there are still a lot of issues with people accepting each other with the gender they feel most comfortable as. _Still_ , some folks go to great lengths to get their body on the same page as their brain, with hormone therapies and even surgery in some cases. And, it’s not always so binary, either – Some people are genderfluid, meaning they don’t mind presenting as either gender, and some others are agender or non-binary, which is sort of neither, to simplify things.”

“How interesting!”

“Do monsters have anything like that, or no?”

“Well,” he ponders, tapping his sculpted metal chin idly. “I haven’t heard of anything like that amoung monsters, _but_ that’s not to say it’s impossible! And, I suppose if one monster had conflicted feelings about their body, their body would gradually change to their ideal gender over time.”

“Wait. _Really?!_ ” You seem shocked.

Mettaton chuckles. “Our bodies are dust animated by magic, darling – If there was some sort of flaw in a monster’s body that didn’t suit his or her personality, the dust would slowly reform into their preferred presentation. It is a process that can take _years_ , but you cannot exist in a body that does not suit you. Or at least, that is how it works for monsters.”

“… You realize you just made _thousands_ of people insanely jealous, right?”

“My sincerest apologies! And, I just realized I neglected to answer your question; Since people are asking, my body is male by design, and I _also_ present as male.”

“I guess that settles that,” you concede. “Uh, how about relationship status? Are you seeing anyone currently, or are you single?”

Mettaton restrains a purr as he looks at you. “While I am currently single, believe me, I’ve currently got my eye on someone,” he winks.

You grin broadly at him. He wonders if you sense his meaning. “And what do you look for in a partner?”

He considers that for a moment. “I’m not quite sure, to be honest. There are a lot of things I find attractive in other monsters, and even in humans.”

“Can I take a guess as to your type? How about someone tall, bone white, and edgy?”

“ _Well_ ,” he grunts. “I do believe Sans indicated earlier that he is not interested?”

You giggle melodically at that. “Oh geez. No kidding, right? Okay okay, sorry I had to bug you, moving on.”

He watches you intently as you work the laptop separating the two of you. Your eyes land upon a question, and his soul swells as your lips widen in a playful expression.

“Hey, Mettaton,” you begin, a grin on your voice. “What does human taste like?” you tease.

 _… Finally_.

He thought you’d _never_ ask.

“I’ve always _wondered_ myself,” he hums delightedly, leaning in as he holds your chin in one of his hands. “Hmm… Shall we find out?”

Your eyes look up into his, widening in surprise as his four throw you a sultry look. “… Wait. _Wha-_ “

His mouth is on yours in an instant, soul resonating from proximity with yours. Hands find purchase in your hair, on your waist, and the small of your back, gripping you as he works your paralyzed mouth with his. He’s vaguely aware of the laptop crashing to the floor, and human hands pushing against his metal chest.

It’s… It’s not _enough_.

Mettaton pulls away for a moment to study your flustered face. If you didn’t look ready for a fight, he would think you enjoyed it.

“Well…” he sighs dejectedly. “ _That_ was disappointing.”

“You’re nothing to write home about either, tinlips,” you hiss. “Off! _NOW?!_ ”

When did he get you on your back? Oh… Right. He sits up, allowing you to scramble away to the other end of the couch.

* * *

“What the shit was all THAT about?!” you demand, boiling with rage. You can barely even put your thoughts together before they leave your mouth. “Are you fucking _kidding me?_ How DARE you!? On camera, _really!?_ ”

Mettaton has clasped both pairs of his hands together by their metal fingers, staring down into his palms as he rests them on his lap. Sighing, his red and yellow eyes slowly look up to meet yours. His whole posture is… _Defeated_. It’s not at all what you’d expect from a guy who just tried to force makeout with you.

“May I… Be completely honest with you for a moment?”

“That _really_ fucking depends, Mettaton. Whatever it is, you just stay at that end of the couch.”

He slowly lifts all four of his hands in mild surrender, then just as slowly stands from his seat. You clench your phone defensively at that, but instead of approaching you, he walks over to turn the camera off.

Wait. He doesn’t want to be on camera for this? That’s… Unusual. For him, anyway. Usually it makes him so animated, but now he’s just… Sullen.

Once it’s switched off, he cautiously returns to the opposite end of the couch, sitting with his knees together and leaning back into the furniture.

“There have been… Several questions as to what type of monster I was, before Dr. Alphys created a new body for me,” he begins carefully. He pauses for a moment, eyes studying something on the wall past you. “The truth is… I have not actually _become_ a robot. Not yet, at least.”

“What are you talking about?” you grumble in annoyance. “And how the hell does this explain why you jumped me back there?”

“May I show you? I will not harm you, I swear.”

Suddenly you kind of wish the camera was still recording. Ugh, what the hell can you do here? Sans still isn’t back, no one else is home, it’s just you and Mettaton. You _hate_ feeling cornered. It just makes you want to lash out.

Without taking your eyes off of him, you half-turn your upper body to grab the first thing you can get your hands on. Bringing it in front of you, you realize it’s the lamp. Ceramic base and body, with a small shade, and a switch on the plug cord. Well, as far as defensive weapons go, it’ll have to do.

“Okay, fine,” you sigh. “What are you, _really?_ ”

He smiles gently, nestling his back slightly further into the soft arm of the couch, and then he goes limp. Wait, _what?!_ _DID A ROBOT JUST DIE IN FRONT OF YOU BECAUSE THAT IS_ NOT-

“… _____?”

Your eyes search everywhere for the voice. It’s his voice, it just sounds… Muffled, now. Where is he? _What_ is he?

Your heart climbs into your throat to live there as a faint ghostly figure starts to fade into sight right next to you.

“I am sorry I had to approach… But… You could not see me properly unless I did…” the transparent figure claims.

You blink, hard, clutching your luminous weapon protectively to your chest. “Mett… Mettaton?”

“This… _This_ is what I truly am…” he mumbles, sounding sad. “A… A _ghost_ … It’s really quite embarrassing…”

“A ghost,” you state flatly. “You’re a ghost and you were just possessing a robot body this whole time?”

“Right… See… Ghost monsters cannot interact with the world as other, physical monsters, can… So… What we have to do… Is… We have to find and take over a body of our own… We can… We can become corporeal, if we just… We have to experience strong emotions, while _in_ a body, in order to fuse with a physical body… And become _real_ …”

He’s harder to hear like this and his sentences seem to keep trailing off. “Okay, can you get back in your body for a sec? Let me think about this.”

The apparition fades from sight, and you panic as the robot at the other end of the furniture starts to move again. It’s like he’s just come back to life.

“Thank you, _____,” he breathes. How does he breathe? “It is exhausting to talk like that.”

“So let me get this straight,” you begin, pointing the lamp at him. Or, you would, if the cord was long enough. Really, you can just hold it straight up and down at this range. Screw it, maybe you should just set it back down behind you. “You’re a ghost in a robot body, and you want to fuse with it or something, and the way that you do that is by experiencing strong emotions or something?”

He flusters as you sum up his situation for him. “Completely accurate, darling.”

“So, you were putting the moves on me just to see if it’d get you to ‘fuse’, or whatever. You were _using_ me.”

His eyes dart back down to look into his palms again. “Right…”

Sighing, you turn slightly to return the lamp to its original resting place. The shamed robot seems absolutely toothless now, at least. “Okay… I think you get how shitty that is. So, just don’t ever do that again, alright?”

He looks up and nods abruptly. “I _swear_ it.”

“Did you even feel anything when you tackled my face?”

Mettaton sighs, shaking his head. “Honestly, I had _hoped_.”

So not only did he kiss you, he didn’t even get anything out of it. That’s gross and weird, but you try to push it aside. “Back to your fusion problem; Is this emotional epiphany thing limited to making out with unsuspecting humans or what?”

He looks up at you, surprised. “No, I don’t believe so. Although, I _would_ prefer for the focus to be passion rather than anger or… Wait. Why do you ask?”

“Do you think getting closer to Papyrus would help with that?”

If he was capable of blushing, you’re sure his metal face would absolutely be on _fire_ right now. You grin in spite of yourself at the robot.

“Alright. Let me see what I can do about that,” you grin.

“You’re… You’re going to _help_ me? After what I’ve done?”

“You’re _also_ going to delete that whole last part of the interview thing, too,” you point out. “I think my boyfriend would take issue with that. Do that, then… Yeah, fuck it, why not?”

Before Mettaton can speak, you hear the door swing open and practically leap from the couch to pounce on the new arrival, stopped short by a brown paper bag in a thick skeletal fist held out in your face. “About fucking _time_ , Sans! What took you?”

Sans rolls his massive shoulders in a shrug. “ **had to find a place that would serve me.** ”

“Geez, I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve gone with you,” you apologize.

“ **and leave tinman alone in my apartment?** ” he grunts. “ **no thanks.** ”

Taking the bag from him and hungrily reaching into it, you quickly unwrap your burger and take a big bite.

… Odd. You don’t taste any mustard. How could _Sans_ of all people forget mustard? You lift up the top bun, curious what the prankster has done to your food.

“… OH MY GOD, _SANS_ ,” you shriek, taking a swing at his shaking ribs as he laughs at you.

“ **well, i figured you didn’t want too much, so i told ‘em to hold back a bit.** ”

“There’s like, one tiny dot of yellow right in the middle! That’s _not_ a normal amount!”

“ **there’s more in the kitchen if you need it, you know,** ” he chuckles.

You storm off in the direction of the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway, you turn back to him. “Thanks. Also? You’re _still_ the worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Mettadate I have in store for you, so now he's out of the voting. I may do an aftermath chapter, but while we're talking about voting, here's the poll!
> 
> A: Gaster  
> B: Grillbae  
>  ~~ _C: Mettaton_~~ (He might become an option later for Reader's plan :P)  
>  D: Snas  
> E: Plot
> 
> This was the plan for Mettaton all along - He was going on dates with Reader, although he had to be careful not to frame them as dates due to her earlier resistance, in order to forge some kind of romantic connection and use his passion with her to fuse. I definitely didn't do it justice, and if I had the time or patience I might go back to rework this part of the arc quite a bit. But, he was pretty hard to write for me because he was actually pretty secretive, stoic, and even a bit of a sociopath (See also: torture). More on that when he actually gets his fusion with his body :P
> 
> I was really struggling with this due to that kiss, so I hope I made it vague enough to not scare off anybody - In spite of myself and wanting to just keep telling my story the way I've planned it, some of the more aggressive/insulting feedback _has_ kind of tamped down my willingness to get these difficult scenes written out and told. If you think _Grillby_ was bad, just wait until _Gaster_. This is Underfell, after all, and while absolutely no rape is going to happen and I've promised you that, there's still plenty of other potential uncomfortableness to come.
> 
> So, now that Mettaton's made his true object of affection apparent to Reader, she's willingly boarded the miserable ghost's Papyton ship and looking to set sail :P What sorts of shenanigans will they get up to, I wonder? Will Sans approve the pairing or try to interfere? Find out next time... When I can be bothered to write it!! XD


	56. The Roommate.

“ **Sans, what do you _honestly_ believe you are doing?** ”

Sans grunts as he pops the old knob off the door, _without_ crushing it in his massive bony mitts that is, and starts working on installing the new one. “ **what does it look like, boss?** ” he comments casually. “ **i** **’m installing a new locking doorknob on my door.** ”

Gaster pinches his nasal ridge bone between two fingers, letting out a displeased sigh. “ **You _do realize_ that this security measure of yours is entirely _pointless_ , correct?**” he taunts. “ **All of us are strong enough to render such primitive defenses _useless_ , after all.**”

The thicker set skeleton sighs, setting down the instructions sheet as he fumbles for the smaller parts. “ **yeah, do me a favour and don** **’t snap this one in half, alright?** ”

The royal scientist’s sockets narrow angrily. “ **I will do _no such thing_ , and how _dare_ you try and tell me what I can and cannot do within my own _home_. What makes you think I would _ever_ abide by such a ****‘favour** **’ for _you?_** ”

“ **’** **cause the lock ain** **’t for me,** ” he relents. “ **it** **’s for _____.** ”

The startlingly tall scientist considers this for a moment, then he glowers at his son once more until he feels the pressing need to explain himself.

“ **look, boss** **– i can** **’t afford to put her up in a hotel forever. it** **’s already been a couple weeks, and it** **’s bleeding my account dry to try it. so, i figured, best way to keep her safe is to just give her my room.** ”

That dumbass from your class knows where the hotel is and all, but nothing about Sans’ apartment - he can just pop back and forth with you to keep it obscured from him and those idiot thugs he keeps running into. Well, unless said idiot thugs catch on that he lives with Papyrus and Gaster, then he just have to follow them home. But who would actually be _stupid_ enough to try to start shit with the either Royal Guard Captain or the Royal Scientist?

Sans wasn’t entirely happy with the solution, but it was the best one he could think of for the time being. This _does_ put you closer to Gaster, after all. But maybe he can make that work in his favour?

“ **And you thought to arrange this _without_ discussing it with me?** ”

Sans stands, trying to shake off the sins he can feel crawling up and down his back, turning to face the skeleton towering over him. “ **i figured you of all monsters wouldn** **’t mind having her around so much,** ” he suggests. “ **besides, _____ seemed _real_ excited about it, you know? but, if ya _want_ , i _could_ just tell her you said _no_ -**“

“ **Tell her _no such nonsense_ ,**” the scientist spits unhappily. “ **Perhaps... Perhaps this is not the _worst_ idea you have ever had,** ” he considers, tapping his long phalanges of one hand against the wrist of his other. “ **Having _____ _could_ stand to be a boon for us, in the long run.** ”

“ **glad you** **’re on the same page, boss,** ” Sans grins. He then slides his phone out of his pocket and sends a text message.

*** gasters gud w it. u rdy?**

*** y.**

Sans narrows his eyes at the screen. Did you _actually_ manage to send a text that was even _lazier_ than his?

… _Bravo_.

A beat later he works his magic and you’re suddenly standing in between him and the looming scientist. Gaster immediately reaches for your hands, but you’re holding your laundry basket in both hands with your bag on top. You shrug apologetically under the load, but Sans can’t help but feel giddy at seeing his dad so easily denied like that.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, guys,” you offer meekly. “I’m sorry I don’t have a lot of options right now. But, I guess this _is_ a better long-term plan than the hotel.”

“ **We are _delighted_ to have you grace us with your company, my dear,** ” the royal scientist coos. “ **You may remain our guest for as long as you desire.** ”

“Awesome,” you beam. “Sans, did you grab my shelf too?”

“ **it** **’s in the room already.** ”

“Great, thanks,” you smile up at him, then turn into the open room. “Hey, it’s clean in here! Smells like someone set off a Febreeze-scented bomb or something.”

Sans crooks a brow bone at that. Gaster does, too, curious about the comment. “ **what did you expect?** ”

“I dunno, that it’d be kinda messy?” you wince. “I mean, half the time I see you your clothes have this funky smell, either from your gross mustard habit or from mildew,” you tease him.

He grimaces at that. “ **i give you my room and the first thing you complain about is a funky smell it _doesn_** ** _’t_ have?** ”

You chuckle at that. “You’re right, I’m sorry Sans.”

He rolls his massive shoulders in a shrug. It's not like he could say you're off the mark about his cleaning habits. He's just spent most of last night cleaning it. “ **say, why don** **’t you get settled in, sweetheart? i** **’ve gotta have a chat with gaster for a sec,** ” Sans tells you.

“Alright.”

The slender skeleton regards him suspiciously, but before he can react both of them are standing in his empty office back at the lab. Gaster growls and launches himself at his son, but Sans surrounds himself with sharpened blue bones like a barricade before he can close the already short distance.

“ **listen, boss,** ” he begins. “ **if she** **’s going to be comfortable living with us, you** **’ve _gotta_ respect the damn locking doorknob, alright?** ” Sans presses. “ **the one on the bathroom, too. chicks need their privacy and all that, and she _ain_** ** _’t_ going to stick around for long if she catches wind that you** **’re treating her like a fuckin** **’ _lab rat_.** ”

“ **And what if I do not? Since _when_ do you think you can give _me orders_ , Sans?**” Gaster challenges.

“ **’** **cause if you don** **’t, then her backup is undyne** **’s place,** ” he shrugs. “ **i already asked** **– she** **’s cool with it. the sergeant has a two bedroom place to herself, and i told _____ that she can and _should_ bail the _second_ she feels uncomfortable.** ”

The scientist frowns, bringing a hand up to his chin in thought. This is the _real_ test – whether or not Gaster will play by the new rules. Sure, locked doors aren’t a problem to any of the skeletons, but you’re smart enough that you already _know_ that. So, instead, the doors have to be boundaries.

“ **the only way this works is if _you_ play _nice_ ,**” Sans smirks sharply.

The royal scientist straightens, pondering this for a moment with his long phalanges clasped behind his back. He casts Sans a look of bitter resentment. “ **…** **Very well,** ” he concedes unhappily. “ **If it will keep _____ within reach, then I will abide by these** **‘boundaries** **’ you are so _insistent_ on.** ”

“ **great. glad we had this talk,** ” Sans grins victoriously. “ **i** **’ll pop us back now.** ”

A beat later they’re back in the hallway, with you standing in the doorway of the bedroom with your closed fists resting on your hips. You look annoyed. What did he do now?

“Sans, where’s your stuff?” you demand. “You said this is _your_ room, right?”

“ **it** **’s your room now,** ” he shrugs. “ **i moved my shit into the storage room. we don** **’t use it for anything otherwise.** ”

“Okay, but… Where are _you_ sleeping, then?” you ask apprehensively, crossing your arms.

“ **i** **’m taking the couch.** ”

“ _Sans_ ,” you protest. “ _I_ _’m_ the one just crashing here. _I_ should take the couch.”

“ **no way, i fuckin** **’ _love_ that couch.** ” Besides, as _if_ he’d let you sleep out in the open with Gaster on the prowl like that. Where did he go anyway? Sans spares a glance behind him. Huh. He must’ve slithered off back to his room, then.

“Sans!”

“ **what, are you gunna fight me for it?** ”

“Well, I _just might!_ ” you shout defiantly.

He pulls you into his chest with his massive arms. You struggle in surprise initially, but then relax into the hug. “ **listen, sweetheart,** ” he says lowly. “ **i _just_ got gaster to play nice, and you need your space anyways. you** **’re taking my room. this isn** **’t a negotiation.** ”

Sighing into his chest, you nod against his hard ribs. “Okay… _Fine_ ,” you mumble. “I just don’t like the idea of you kicking yourself out of your _own room_ for _me_.”

Shit, if he could afford it, he’d get you a fuckin’ nice house with maids and shit. High brick walls into the property with a security gate. And a personal security team to follow you everywhere. Do you like dogs? Because some bigass guard dogs would be good too. Big, _nasty_ , man-eating attack dogs to chew up both that Derrick asshole and Gaster into pathetic shreds. _That_ _’d_ be fun to watch. Real fucking cathartic, too. And then, after enjoying _that_ carnage, he could pick you up and carry you off to the bedroom, where he’d tear your clothes from your supple, _naked_ body, then…

… Wait. _Shit_.

 _Where_ is he going with this?

“Sans? You’re breathing kind of funny.”

He abruptly pulls away from the hug. “ **get yourself settled in. i** **’m gunna, uh** **… go** **… organize the storage room, or something.** ”

“Are you okay?”

He takes a moment to center himself so that his magic can settle the hell down. “ **’** **m fine, sweetheart.** ”

He needs to get control over himself. He _knew_ this plan would challenge his Integrity and Patience, but he was out of options otherwise. The absolute _last_ thing he needs is to be the one to make you leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's soo clunky :/ I hope you still like it, but I might come back to edit it later once my brain's in better shape. I actually haven't touched this since yesterday morning about.
> 
> Sans won (of course) followed by both Plot and Gaster, which were fighting for second place. I actually don't know which one ultimately claimed second, just that they were a vote apart the entire time. So, have some Snas and Plot, more Snas next chapter, and then some Gaster. Sound cool?
> 
> Also I totally previewed this on Patreon two days ago and didn't get to posting it yesterday, my bad. Life stuff happened :(
> 
> [Edit] Link to Patreon removed since AO3 does not allow that kind of promotion.


	57. The Meal.

“Hey, what’s for dinner?”

Sans is loving the fact that you’re sitting on the couch next to him now that you’re all settled in – Not that that took much, with how little you brought with you. He’s elated that you agreed to come live with him so easily, though he wonders if that was just because you were conscious of the money he was spending on you. He prefers to think it’s because you’re comfortable with him, _and_ the fact that you say you trust him.

Gaster wasn’t far off the mark though; This might _actually_ be the _best_ idea he’s ever had. He wonders if he can sneak his arm along the back of the couch, or would you flinch away? Just to get a little closer.

He shrugs his massive shoulders, carefully testing the arm theory. “ **papyrus usually makes it.** ”

You press your lips together in thought.

“ **something on your mind?** ” he asks, grinning to himself. Either you didn’t notice or you didn’t mind.

“I was wondering if maybe I could cook something tonight? To say thank you.”

 _You_ _’re_ going to cook for _him?_ This is probably the best day of his entire fucked up life. He briefly considers whether he could get you to wear a frilly apron. Sexy as that would be, he knows you’d probably never go for it.

“ **more of that taco dip stuff?** ” he asks hopefully.

“Pssh,” you nudge him. “I know more recipes than _that_.”

“ **what** **’d ya have in mind, sweetheart?** ”

“Well, do we have a deep fryer?”

“ **knowing papyrus? probably. whether it** **’s ever been _used_ is another story.** ”

“Hmmm.”

“ **what are you thinking?** ”

“If I go shopping for some stuff, I can make some pretty great poutine?”

“ **you mean that shit you like from harveys? fries, gravy, weird cheese?** ”

You huff indignantly. “I can make it _way better_ than Harvey’s can, you know.”

Sans rubs a large hand against his hard jaw, thinking this over. If he lets you into the kitchen, he’ll probably _never_ hear the end of it from Papyrus. But, strangely enough, he knows that Gaster would likely get the Captain to simmer down, since the ordinarily strict asshole is all about making concessions for you and keeping you happy.

Besides, there is absolutely _no fucking way_ he’s going to pass up more of _your_ cooking.

He rolls his massive body off of the couch, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning to you. “ **let** **’s go shopping,** ” he says, gesturing with his chin for you to get out of your seat too.

“You sure?”

“ **yeah. let** **’s get shit so we can make dinner.** ”

“Well,” you hum, surprised? “Okay. But let me check out the kitchen and see what we already have, first.”

* * *

Already you were second-guessing yourself about this whole shopping trip and dinner proposal. You’re taking the lead at the local supermarket, list in hand, the same one where you actually met him for the second time over some mustard. Your massive skeleton roommate is leaning on the cart where he pushes it behind you. Every few steps or so, he bumps you in the butt with it, at which you turn around and scold him while he chuckles. He lewdly claims he likes seeing ‘that ass bounce back’. _Ugh_.

It’s also a very public place, and surprisingly busy tonight. They seem to have some snacks and pop on sale at the front of the store in massive displays. Already they look pretty lean. You pointed them out and he didn’t seem interested, but when you kept eyeing your favourite soda, he snuck one into the cart anyway.

People _are_ staring again, of course, but this time you don’t actually mind so much. So you’re shopping with a skeleton. Big deal. They can think whatever the hell they want.

“I really like your idea of making burgers too,” you tell Sans behind you.

“ **well,** ” he begins. “ **can** **’t have just fries with cheese and gravy. gaster would bitch about that being unhealthy.** ”

“I guess. But then, burgers are better?” you scrutinize.

“ **it** **’s more variety, and you always seem to have one with your poutine when we order out,** ” he points out.

“Hmm…” you hum. “How about a salad then, too? We can buy a bag mix that we just have to put together.”

“ **if you want. better hurry up though, sweetheart,** ” he calls behind you, nudging you with the cart. You spin and swat the air at him in spite of the distance. “ **if we don** **’t get going soon, papyrus is going to beat us home.** ”

“And he’ll take over the kitchen making spaghetti or something,” you nod in understanding. “Okay, we just have a couple things left to grab, and _then_ we can go home.”

* * *

“Damnit! I forgot to grab an onion to chop up!”

You turn to leave the kitchen and a massive hard hand places itself on your head, applying just enough pressure to stop you in your tracks. Sans turns you around in place, chuckling as your eyes meet his.

“ **forget it, sweetheart.** ”

“But, what if your dad likes onions on his burgers?” you protest.

“ **if he** **’s broken up about it, i** **’m sure he can go get one himself.** ”

“Sans!”

“ **you ain** **’t leaving, _____.** ”

… What did he just say? A well of panic springs up inside you, followed abruptly by a feeling like you’re burning with defiance from inside. He seems to notice the shift in your mood, then he lets go of your arms and backs up a step, his face taking on an apologetic expression.

“ **i meant, you ain** **’t leaving without _company_ ,**” he clarifies. “ **between your ex, that shithead from your class, and random people who noticed you in mettaton** **’s videos, it** **’s probably a bad idea for you to go out on your own.** ”

You huff indignantly. “Well, the store’s _only_ five minutes away,” you complain. “It’s incredibly unlikely anything would happen during that time.”

“ **i don** **’t wanna risk it. what if you** **’re followed?** ” He shakes his massive head as you open your mouth to explain. “ **not having it, sweetheart. if you go out again i** **’m coming with you, and right now i can** **’t leave the gravy unattended.** ”

He looks helpless as he grabs the whisk and continues stirring the pot on the stove. You chuckle at the pathetic look he throws you.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” you giggle. “I’ll let you win this time, Sans. Where’s the cayenne?”

“ **the what?** ”

“It’s a spice. You said your brother has a well-stocked spice rack?”

“ **oh, it** **’s in that cupboard in front of you, on the top- _____, what the _fuck_ are you _doing?_** ”

“Climbing on the counter?” you sass, already with your knees up and gripping the overhead cupboards for leverage. “What does it look like?”

“ **okay, _no_ , you** **’re gunna hurt yourself doing that. i** **’ll get it.** ”

“Don’t you dare leave that pot unattended, mister! Besides, _relax_ , I do this all the time.”

“ **sweetheart, you** **’re gonna-** “

As if on cue, you slip in a wet spot from the previous sliced tomatoes that you’d missed wiping up, falling backwards from the counter. Just as you make peace with the giant bruise your ass is going to have hitting the tile floor from this height, hard arms grab you roughly and pull you into an equally hard body. You look up in Sans’ panicked expression, faintly pink sweat dotting his skull as he holds you bridal style barely a foot off the floor.

His one red eye studies you for a hot second, then he closes his sockets and lets out a relieved sigh.

“ **we** **’re trading jobs,** ” he orders softly. “ **you manage the gravy, i** **’ll take care of the burgers.** ”

“If that’s going to happen, you’re going to have to let go of me first,” you point out.

He blinks and his sockets widen, shifting to let you stand up as his cheekbones flush red. You quickly try to tamp down your own surprised feelings as you turn towards the bubbling brown liquid. That was kind of… Intimate, just now, and maybe a little sweet. _Damnit_. Maybe you should’ve just gone with Undyne in the first place. There would be far fewer opportunities for random awkward moments like this with a guy you’ve got in the friendzone that way.

You startle as a massive hand invades your field of vision, holding a spice jar.

“ **is this it?** ” Sans asks.

Powdered cayenne. “That’s the right stuff,” you nod, accepting it from him carefully. Popping it open you quickly shake a dash into the bubbling brown gravy.

His hand lingers in the air for a moment, and you only just notice that it hadn’t moved for a conspicuous second, when it finally _does_ move. Then you feel a sudden tap on the ass. You yelp and swing out your whisk-hand aggressively as he chuckles.

“AUGH! _Sans!_ ”

He chuckles giddily. “ **sorry sweetheart, couldn** **’t resist.** ”

It’s been a long time since he’s done that, you realize. But, it had _also_ been an excellent tactic to break the tension, you acknowledge.

“Don’t neglect those burgers on the grill,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at his antics. “Also, I think the first batch of fries is about ready.”

* * *

“ **What is all of this?** ”

Sans grumbles to himself as he notices Gaster’s state of dress when he finally crawls out of that hole he calls a bedroom – No belt, no tie, and a couple of buttons on his pristine white dress shirt are undone. He’s _never_ dressed down like this, and he absolutely _reeks_ of that stupid minty body wash of his. Did he take a shower while he was in there? And how long did he spend preening in front of the mirror this time?

You set down the forks you’re mixing the salad with and make jazz hands towards the spread. “Sans and I made dinner,” you announce proudly. “Thought it’d be a nice ‘thanks for taking me in’ surprise for you guys. But,” you add, grumbling towards Sans even as he grins. “ _This_ jerk wouldn’t let me pay for it.”

“ **you** **’re a _guest_ , sweetheart, and you** **’ve got no job right now,** ” he sighs, remembering the fight at the register. “ **until either of those things change i** **’m covering it.** ”

“ **I see,** ” Gaster nods, observing the whole interaction curiously. “ **And, what might I ask have you prepared for us tonight?** ” he asks, studying the strainer (Colander, you had corrected him earlier) of fries, the pot of gravy, and the broken up cheese curds in a bowl. There was also a plate of burgers that you had seasoned and stuffed cheese in the middle of, several plates of chopped vegetables for toppings, and all available condiments from the fridge.

You happily explain to him what poutine is, and he nods in understanding as he follows your instructions to combine the ingredients. You ask if he wanted onions for his burger, and then dramatically sigh in relief when the scientist shakes his head no. Finally, he takes his seat at the head of the table, and you offer him some salad after scooping some onto your plate. You tell him a salad-related joke and he chuckles charmingly.

Sans… Needs a moment.

The idea of sitting down at the table and having dinner together, with his father and brother, like an actual _family_ , is doing funny things to his head. The skeletons were _never_ like that, _are_ never like that, and yet here you were bringing them together for dinner like it was the most normal thing in the world. He shudders uncomfortably at the thought. They were family, sure, but they had never, _ever_ , even _remotely_ behaved like one.

“Sans?” your angelic voice calls out. “Are you going to sit down?”

“ **…** **right.** ”

Just as he pulls the chair out, the front door opens. Everyone looks up at the newcomer. Papyrus.

He wordlessly removes his scarf, seemingly not even noticing the scene visible through the open kitchen occurring at the dinner table. Sliding out of his boots and gloves, he puts them away in their meticulously assigned places in the front closet. Then he turns, and narrows his sockets at the spectacle.

Sans figures he’s probably having a similar reaction to it that he was.

Gaster begins to slide out of his chair, but energetic you beat him to the punch as you skip through the kitchen. _Oh shit._ Sans reaches out a hand to stop you.

“Hey Captain Papyrus!” you cheerily greet. “Did you see Mettaton’s latest video?”

… You fucking evil _genius_. He drops his hand.

Papyrus stammers as you somehow take his hand in yours and gently lead him to the table. Sans spares a glance at Gaster and even _he_ is stunned. You keep Papyrus busy talking about his favourite star as he follows you willingly. He even takes the seat you pull out for him without complaint as he gushes about some of the answers Mettaton gave in the latest interview.

“For the next few videos we were thinking of getting him to do like, normal everyday stuff, to show that he’s not so different from humans,” you continue. “And I was wondering whether or not _you_ would like to be a part of them?”

Sans has never seen Papyrus so shocked and placated at the same time. “ **H-HE WANTS _ME_ IN HIS NEXT VIDEO?!** ” he stammers excitedly.

“Yeah!” you beam, scooping some fries, cheese, and gravy into a bowl for him. “I mean, you _ARE_ Captain of the Royal Guard, _right?_ Who _better?_ ”

And somehow, you even knew to appeal to his Pride.

“ **EX- _EXACTLY!_** ” he hollers, bashing a fist into the table. Gaster casts him a discerning look, but fortunately there was no crack in it this time.

“Awesome,” you grin, sliding back into your own seat as you dress your burger. “I’ll let him know you’re interested. What times are you available?”

You compare schedules and give him Mettaton’s contact number, which he flushes cherry red at seeing in his phone. Huh, he must be really excited about working with the robot again for some reason.

Sans shrugs to himself, then he finally takes a bite of the burger in front of him. It’s _incredible_. He slowly chews it as he savours the flavor, as he looks over at you and falls in love just a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is pure domestic fluff in Underfell and I am not at _all_ sorry for it. Sans why are you such a cutie like seriously my _gods_. Next chapter is a Gaster 'date'. I very much look forward to it :)
> 
> Also worth mentioning: I am a POUTINE _**FIEND**_. [Here is one of my masterpieces.](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CmYbWLsWAAEDB_l.jpg:large)
> 
> Also also worth mentioning: Patreon is still a thing :) I've discovered that I actually love doing requests, so hit me up! :3 [Edit] Link to Patreon removed since AO3 doesn't allow promotion.


	58. The Decor.

Gaster leans against his drafting table in his room, enmeshed in thought. Papyrus had not been receptive to your taking over of his culinary duties once he had clued in to what was transpiring, nor had he been amicable towards the discovery of your new living arrangements. The tall skeleton hums in thought. You _were_ particularly brilliant to distract Papyrus at first, but Gaster knew it at its outset that it was not a strategy that would last. He’d had to step in and assert his authority over his household. A tactic that did not work as well as assuaging his Pride to control his responses of course, but nevertheless, in the end Papyrus had bitterly complied.

The dinner you had made, while not anywhere _near_ Grillby’s centuries-long devotion to perfection of flavor, had not been _entirely_ unpleasant. He had never tried ‘poutine’ before tonight, snubbing most surface food in favour of his own cooking.

… _Grillby_.

In terms of their friendly wager, the fire elemental was _winning_. Damn him and his Amplify ability, accentuating your positive emotions for him. He quietly curses the impotence of his own ability. You can’t gain _any_ LV from _erasing_ someone, after all. His oldest friend and confidant had the clear upper hand.

… Well. Now with _you living_ here, Gaster realizes, perhaps now _he_ is the one with the advantage. It would be best not to waste the time.

And he _hates_ to lose.

He realizes he’s fidgeting, tapping the pencil against the side of the table. Until he can come up with a solution to this issue with the new Core, and the _ridiculous_ complaints from the hydro company at creating his own power source, he would set the pen down and consider his other projects. One of which you were a significant part of, not that you knew it.

Standing from his chair, he strides over to the door to his room and leaves it. Down the hall, he senses your bright red soul in the kitchen.

“ **What are you doing?** ” he gently asks.

You set down a plate and look up at him, eyebrow arched. “Washing dishes?” you answer.

Glancing to the drying rack, he notices it is already overfilled. “ **No one has asked you to do that,** ” he points out.

“Well,” you start. “ _I_ made dinner, and, it kind of used a lot of plates and stuff? So, I just thought I’d take care of it before bed.”

“ **And, why is Sans not here to assist you?** ”

You shrug. “He has work.”

Right, his _other_ job. Gaster straightens as he realizes he can leverage this situation. “ **My goodness, where are my manners? _____, may _I_ assist you?** ” he offers.

“… If you want? I mean, you don’t _have_ to. It’s _my_ mess.”

He chuckles as he locates a drying towel from the cupboard overhead, taking position next to you and grasping one of the plates from the drying rack, beginning to wipe away the water drops still clinging to the ceramic. “ **I fail to see how one can _own_ a _mess_.** ”

You fluster at that. “Well, uh… This place is so clean it’s kind of unnerving at times, I guess, and I thought it might be rude to ask especially since I created most of it. Besides, if I’m going to be staying here rent-free, I ought to help pitch in with chores.”

… Where on earth did you get _that_ foolish idea? “ **You are a _guest_ , my dear. You are not obligated to take on any task related to the cleanliness of this household,**” he asserts. “ **Nor would I require any rent of you. We can handle the finances on our own.** ”

You hesitate for a moment, gripping a bowl covered in suds.

“ **Is something the matter?** ” he has to ask of your pause.

“My Aunt Deb said the same thing to me once, actually,” you reveal. “But, I guess I’ve never been super great at listening,” you giggle dismissively before resuming your wiping of the bowl.

“ **Determination will do that,** ” he smirks.

He’s surprised when you bump into him in playful protest.

“ **You mentioned the cleanliness of this place disturbs you?** ” he inquires.

“Well… It just doesn’t feel, very _lived_ in, you know? It’s… Sterile, like a hospital. And you guys have almost _no_ stuff, just furniture and appliances, that’s _it_.”

“ **I see,** ” he hums, though he honestly really doesn’t. Do humans have a lot of garbage they keep around at all times? He rather preferred the minimalist décor. But, if it makes _you_ uncomfortable, perhaps _some_ small concessions could be tolerated. “ **None of us hold a lot of sentimentality in objects, nor did we have much to bring up from Underground. But, if _you_ were given the power to make our space more homely, what would _you_ do?** ”

You back off instantly, defensive. He frowns. That wasn’t the response he’d been anticipating.

“I couldn’t just _redecorate your home_ on a _whim_ like that!” you panic.

“ **I was merely asking _hypothetically_ ,**” he suggests at your hesitation. “ **Although, you _do_ live here now as well, I feel I must remind you. Tell me, how would you improve upon it? Make it feel more ****‘lived-in** **’, as you put it?** ”

You press your lips together, halting your chore once again as you lose yourself in thought. He quite enjoys that pensive look on your face.

“… Do you have any pictures?”

“ **Pictures?** ”

“Yeah, like, family photos and stuff. Maybe pictures of your sons as kids,” you shrug. Then you gasp. “OH! Do you have any baby photos of Sans and Papyrus?! I would LOVE to see _those!_ ”

“ **I am afraid not,** ” Gaster frowns. “ **Access to technology such as that was entirely dependent upon what washed up Underground from the human city above. And, if a camera _had_ shown up, it would likely have been stripped for parts towards something considered more useful.** ” That, and it would have been an inordinate waste of his time. He’d had far better things to do back then.

“… Makes sense,” you concede with a pout. “Well, my Aunt always has photos of people she loves in frames on the walls, so that was my first thought.”

“ **I see,** ” he nods.

“And, if you don’t have any pictures, you probably don’t have any keepsakes from your boys growing up, either,” you point out.

Is that something he should feel he missed out on? “ **That is correct,** ” he admits.

“Hmmm.”

Silence falls as you lose yourself in thought again, giving a somber look at a cup you’re wiping out. You gasp at something, then shake your head. He savours the return of your thoughtful expression. Finally, it seems you have something to say.

“Is your landlord okay with painting?”

“ **In a general sense, or** **…?** ”

You chuckle. “I meant, if you wanted to paint the walls a different colour from the stock white apartments tend to have.”

He hums as he taps his phalanges against his bony chin. “ **I will check whether there was something in the rental agreement.** ”

You finish up the dishes together before wishing him good night and parting ways. Once Gaster returns to his room, he starts going through his files to scan the agreement he had signed. He finds the clause mentioned and it looks like they are free to do whatever the wished, so long as the walls were re-painted a neutral colour prior to moving out. The seed of an idea begins to sprout as he scans his own room, pondering suitable colours. A pastel purple wouldn’t be disagreeable, he considers. If anything, he’s excited at the prospect and looking forward to the change.

He’s… Excited?

“ **Wait,** ” he finds himself saying as confusion sets in. “ **What just happened?** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicating this chapter to my bestie TimeCloneMike who helped me with some ideas late last night after I should've been sleeping :P I had a totally different idea for the next Gaster date (Who knows? I might still do it) but comments on the last chapter made me realize we haven't touched on Reader's baggage a whole lot, so I started writing a this, and then just needed to find a way to finish it off. And he helped with that immensely. Insert shameless plug for his super mad longfic [Ebott's Wake](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7330132/chapters/16649893) here.
> 
> Also, I _may have_ come up with more date ideas for Gaster than I first intended, so I'm going to leave him in to see whether you guys like this and want to see him and Readz going shopping :P (Also we totally put him into a timeout for several chapters).
> 
> Now for the poll:
> 
> A: Gaster  
> B: Grillbae  
>  ~~ _C: Mettaton_~~  
>  D: Snas  
> E: Plot
> 
>  **BONUS:** If Gaster wins again:  
>  A: Do secret date A  
> B: Do secret date B


	59. The Hair.

“ **Is something the matter, my dear?** ”

The cart has a lot of home decorating odds and ends in it already – A bathmat for the bathroom floor, new flexible showerhead, duck-themed slip resistant stickers, shower caddy, paint rollers, tape, and other supplies. You’re walking around the store with Gaster as you each debate the colour of paint you want to buy, picking up or pointing out anything you can think of. They need lots of little creature comforts like this, particularly the caddy – the bathroom you’re now sharing with the brothers didn’t have one, and they each only had one bottle of body wash. Your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and facial cleanser had tripled the amount of products tucked in there. Although, there _is_ enough room to squeeze them all onto the sides of the tub currently, so you’re not sure why he bothered. When you asked the Royal Scientist, he insisted he just likes things to look organized.

You’d hesitated once you came across the section with all the samples of window blinds, remembering that the window in Sans’ room doesn’t have any window covering.

“… Nevermind,” you shake your head. The added feeling of privacy _would_ be nice, but you’re spending enough money here as it is.

He glances where you were looking just a moment ago, mouth opening slightly as understanding dawns on him. “ **Would you like to get a set of curtains for your room?** ” he inquires.

 _Your_ room? No, it belongs to Sans. Even if he kicked himself out, and is now sleeping on the couch because of you…

“It’s not a big deal,” you whinge guiltily.

He frowns, then steers the cart into the adjacent aisle anyways.

“Gaster!” you call after him.

He pretends to ignore you, examining a curtain rod set instead. “ **How do you think this would look?** ”

“Look, Doctor Gaster, I _don_ _’t_ -“

“ **I think it would look charming in my room, do you not agree?** ” he insists.

 _His_ room? “Oh! Yeah, I guess that would look nice,” you concede easily.

“ **And, how about these curtains?** ”

“They’re alright, but, black might make the room too dark. Hey, what about these ones?” you suggest, offering a package of white curtains instead.

“ **I see,** ” he grins, examining the package. “ **I agree, this set would be much more charming. And I notice that it would look good paired with almost any colour.** ”

“Yeah, so if you change your mind about that ‘La La Love’ paint colour, they’ll still look good no matter what,” you nod.

He smiles, then puts another rod set and curtains into the cart. “ **Well, since we are here, we may as well get a matching set for _your_ room, as well.** ”

… Clever scientist. You clench your fists and internally scream at him.

“ **Shall we go select our paints?** ” he suggests, obviously moving to distract you.

Damnit, he is just way too nice sometimes. You nod stiffly and follow him.

The associate was pretty intimidated by the royal scientist, nodding wordlessly as he was handed the colour template and leaving to mix it instead of asking the customary questions. He startles and looks up, working his mouth uselessly as he realizes he forgot to ask. You happily chime in telling him that you want an eggshell finish with primer. That seems to be enough information to get him moving again. You decide to hold off making a decision yourself on paint colour for today, wanting to check with Sans if he likes it first.

Once he steered his way to the register though, he abruptly snatched your credit card out of your hand and glowered at you accusingly.

“ **And how did you come to assume that _you_ will be paying for it?** ” he interrogates, holding it up in his phalanges and regarding you like a scolded child.

“We’re only here in the first place because it was _my_ stupid idea. So, _I_ should get it,” you huff defiantly.

“ **I am not going to fight you, my dear,** ” he declares flatly, with no hint of malice. Then he smirks as he offers your card back, reaching with his other for his wallet. “ **However, I am not going to _lose_ , either.**”

* * *

The shopping trip had been an unexpected war of wills, and Gaster was satisfied that he’d won almost every single battle. He was surprised at himself at how much he seemed to enjoy doting on you, in spite of your insistence to be functionally and financially independent. Being accommodating towards you to build affection _was_ the goal, after all, but it was not a task he was entirely opposed to. It has been a long time since Gaster found himself in a fight, and while violence was what he was accustomed to, your take on it was strangely more endearing.

It’s when he’s standing in your bedroom to help secure the new curtains that his gaze happens to drift over to your shelf.

“ **…** **Monster manual?** ”

Do humans have published books on his kind? That is a… _Concerning_ prospect.

“O-Oh,” you stammer, then stifle a laugh. “Uh, that’s part of a role playing game. Not an _actual_ manual on _actual_ monsters. It’s not real.”

… A game? Involving monsters? “ **May I take a look?** ” he presses.

“Sure thing, if you promise not to get offended,” you chuckle. “Actually, I have the player’s handbook too. You mentioned in the lab a while back that you wanted to see the stats system I knew about?”

“ **That is right,** ” he hums aloud. He had wanted to know exactly how humans could stumble upon a soul’s vital statistics.

“Well, uh, once we’re done with this, I could show you?”

* * *

The description for skeletons is _incredibly_ degrading. Mindless automatons, wearing the rotting remnants of clothing or armour? Does only what it is ordered, and can draw no conclusions of its own? Gaster sighs resignedly, self-consciously adjusting his tie. At least his concern about the accuracy of the hardcover tome has ebbed significantly.

“ **I may have to rescind that promise to remain unoffended,** ” he hums.

You snicker at that, the hardcover book shaking in your grasp. “I _told_ you it wasn’t going to be accurate at all,” you remind him.

“ **Might I make some notes on the differences I observe?** ”

“So long as you’re not talking about marking up my book, go right ahead.”

He considers this for a moment. As much as he would _enjoy_ defacing the insulting reference material, it seems that would upset you. “ **…** **I will go get a notepad,** ” he resolves.

“Alright,” you grin.

He leaves to fetch a clipboard, lined paper secured under the clasp, then returns to where you’ve moved to sit on the couch. He hesitates a moment as the stench of Sans’ sweat from sleeping on it last night offends his nasal passage, but resigns himself to seat next to you anyways, hoping he can put it out of his mind.

He clicks the pen and starts taking notes. “ **The first thing I notice is, you were correct back in the lab** **– The six primary statistics for characters in this game almost exactly line up with what I know of the ones we use to measure souls,** ” he suggests aloud. “ **Do you happen to know how they came upon these measures for characters in the game?** ”

You crinkle your nose in thought. “I don’t know, I think they just made them up? Different games have different systems. This is just the closest one I could think of.”

Might be a dead end, then.

“I’ve actually got a question, if that’s alright?”

“ **Of course, tell me anything that is on your mind.** ”

“I feel a little silly asking this,” you begin. “But, I’ve only really met a handful of monsters, so, uh… Did you guys have, um, dragons down there? Are there any dragon monsters?”

Gaster hums thoughtfully. “ **We did not.** ”

“Oh…”

“ ** _However_ ,**” he adds. “ **That is _not_ to suggest that monsters like dragons never _existed_. _If_ they had, they were likely old news before I was around to remember them.** ”

With that said, Gaster spends the next few minutes with you going over what types of monsters exist or once did exist in his thousand years of memory. You seemed shocked when he compared Moldbygg monsters to the listed ooze monster types, but relieved when he clarified that they were not large enough to engulf a person, nor acidic in order to melt away their flesh and bones. How curious that humans could creatively invent monsters that are in fact _much_ more deadly than _actual_ monsters.

“ **…** **What is it about humans and their brains?** ”

“What do you mean?”

“ **There are several different monsters in this book that, as described, target the human brain for consumption.** ”

“Oh, like mind flayers?”

“ **Indeed. Modern human television _also_ seems to suggest that zombies also favour snacking on them as well.** ”

“Oh, right,” you chuckle. “ _Everything_ is zombies these days.”

He gives the top of your head a playful sideways glance. “ **Is** **… Is eating brains _enjoyable?_ What would the flavour be?** ”

You shrug, grinning. “Don’t know, I’ve never tried one.”

“ **Hmm,** ” he hums.

Curious, he slowly reaches a hand towards your head, intending to keep the playful atmosphere going by pretending to be interested in trying yours. You startle and flinch away, but with his reach it’s not far enough, and he gently presses his phalanges into the surface.

“What are you doing?” you finally ask.

“ **I was merely** **…** ” he trails off.

He hesitates as he lifts a lock of hair up between his long ivory fingers.

“ **This** **… Is _hair_ , correct?**”

“Yes?”

“ **It...** ”

He’s at a loss for words.

The fine, flexible strands feel soft and smooth between his bones, and he’s fascinated by the movement. He leans slightly closer and explores it with a sniff. The smell is sweet, flowery, and utterly _captivating_ to the old skeleton. It feels _luxurious_ , bending to the touch as one unit, yet many separate strands, so tiny he can barely spot them individually.

“Um, Gaster? Are you okay?”

He shifts in his seated position, bringing up his other hand to explore the new sensation more thoroughly. Raking his distal bones gently through it, inspecting individual strands for where they attach to your scalp, gathering it in his wounded palms and letting it fall away. He continues exploring for a good minute, before he’s forced to acknowledge that he _likes_ it. _He likes your hair_. The way it _moves_ , the way it _smells_ , the way it _shimmers_ in the light.

“Do you have some kind of hair fetish?” you ask uncomfortably.

“ **Why do you ask?** ” he asks automatically, still enthralled.

“Because you’re blushing pretty red right now.”

… He’s blushing?

“ **My** **… _My apologies_ , _____!**” he retreats, raking his hands down his face in embarrassment. As soon as his digits release your locks of course, he regrets the loss and uncharacteristically fidgets his hands in his lap.

“It’s... It’s okay, I guess?” you hesitate, stroking your own fingers through your hair as you encourage it to settle back in place. “I guess that was pretty different for you, huh?”

“ **Indeed,** ” he agrees. “ **Arial was a skeleton as well, you see. She, of course, did not have hair. The sensation was just unfamiliar, I did not mean anything by it,** ” he finds himself saying.

“Arial?”

Why did he even _mention_ her? He curses himself before regaining his composure. “ **Sans and Papyrus** **’ mother,** ” he clarifies.

“I take it from the ‘was’ that she’s no longer around,” you intuit. Does that upset you?

“ **Yes. She died at the moment of Papyrus** **’ birth.** ”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs dismissively. “ **It has been twenty-one years.** ”

“It must still hurt though, right?”

Should it? “ **Not all the time,** ” he lies. He’s surprised at himself for even remembering her name.

“I’m, uh…” you stammer awkwardly, discomforted by the subject change. “I need to get ready for class.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster just learned something new about himself :P
> 
> Reader is being cautiously trusting of him right now - She knows she can't avoid him since they live together, but Sans and Undyne's warnings haven't left her mind. That's why she's okay being out in public with him, though when he started on her hair, she definitely was thinking about telling him to back off.
> 
> The A and B secret date votes were so close (like one off), so I tried to do both ideas: Shopping with Gaster and looking at the D&D monster manual with him XD Shopping was the new idea, D&D and sitting on the couch together was the old idea.
> 
> Next chapter: I've got some Snas time/Plot for you! I think you'll have a great time >:)
> 
> And then after that, we're going to get Grillbae out of the way. With Gaster, Sans, and Plot recently done, and Metts out of the voting, it only leaves him. Don't worry, as promised, you go no further with him than in chapter 50, in fact it isn't intimate at all. And, for those of you who liked the Grillbae.... Sorry.


	60. The Meeting.

*** Hey you disappeared this morning. I’m getting ready for class in the next half hour or so, are you going to be around to take me to school?**

Sans grumbles as he reads the text message.

 *** mite b late sweethert, busy w work** , he replies.

*** Should I ask Gaster if he’ll do it?**

His grumbling gets a bit more feral.

*** no chance.**

*** Do you want to text me when you’re done then?**

*** yeh. wait up 4 me.**

*** Alright, but if you’re not here by noon I’m going solo.**

Well, he couldn’t have _that_. He’ll just have to move a bit quicker than he’d normally like.

* * *

 “Why the heck are we meeting so _early?_ ”

“Yeah, when people have like, secret meetings like this, don’t they normally do it at nighttime?”

Derrick scoffs at the group gathered before him. Two of the young men before him were already complaining about the setting and time. It was after ten o’clock in the morning, and he’s chosen the spacious basement pool room in his house, the green velvet of the table stretching out in front of him. He straightens from his lean against the mahogany and folds his arms across his chest.

“This is _not_ a spy movie,” he reminds them. “This is _real life_. As for the early hour, since I _am_ one of the funding sources for this project, you will work to _my_ schedule without complaint. Understood?”

A couple of heads turn to look at their partners, then nod in acceptance. Derrick discretely lets out a sigh. He has a _lot_ of money riding on this, and _these_ are the types of people he has to work with? Drew has elected to sit on a stool in the corner, patiently observing what Derrick does with the meeting.

“Thank you. Now,” he begins. “After this past week of information-gathering, what do we have?”

“First, can I ask a question?”

Derrick nods to the man with his hand raised. “Go ahead,” he consents.

“What is so special about this _____ chick?” he asks curtly.

Drew bristles at the tone, but Derrick has an arm across his chest as soon as he rises, silently urging him to sit back down.

“… We believe that _____ is being manipulated by monster magic,” he admits. “Her behavior has changed significantly since she first encountered them, to the point of going with them to places unknown and even acting defensive on their behalf.”

“ _And_ we have proof,” Drew chimes in.

“Right,” Derrick nods to him. “She is my classmate, and Drew was her boyfriend, but she became hostile to both of us shortly after monsters entered the picture.”

“It’s that _girl_ ,” Andrew seethes. “The ‘princess’ brat, or whatever. She can get into people’s heads, change their minds-”

Before his partner can get too deep into his rambling rant, Derrick silences him with a stern look. The room is shaken, however, as the assembled group mutters to each other in fear and anger.

He’s not certain, but believes he might be able to hear Drew’s teeth grinding above the murmur in the room.

“We will go over the bounty targets in detail towards the conclusion of the meeting. First, however, we need information. Those of you we’ve assigned for information gathering, please step forward and share with us what you’ve learned.”

One person, a front desk clerk at the hotel _____ stayed at, lets everyone know that she was checked out by the skeleton a couple days ago. He unfortunately has no idea where she went with the monster, as he couldn’t leave the desk, but his friend who was outside watched them disappear into thin air. The room was just as suspiciously emptied, and she never kept any worthwhile notes or information on the monsters for room service to find.

Another young man steps forward to report on boss monsters. So far as he knows, the Queen has fire magic because she has declared it so in the past, and the skeleton that walks _____ to school has teleportation magic, as well as ‘dragon-laser’ magic, from the fight at the parking garage about a week ago. The former explains the vanishing and reappearing, at the very least.

A third person, a scruffy teen, had focused on finding out monster schedules and where they live. He’s got the address where Dr. Alphys lives, the building the skeletons live in but not the floor or apartment number, and notes that the Queen and her human kids always return to the monster embassy at night, suggesting they sleep there, but it is always under guard. He doesn’t know where the fish Sergeant stays, just that he’s overheard her talking about how far away it is, so it’s likely somewhere in the west end of the city. The fire elemental restaurant owner is a complete mystery, as he’s only been seen with _____ in public once.

“What about the royal scientist?” Derrick’s forced to ask.

“I think I know where he works – It’s a lab in the west end of town, my brother’s seen it. It’s… Well, private property, with _lots_ of security. He’s never seen any humans go into it,” he reports.

“Do we have _anything_ on his _ability?_ ” Derrick demands.

“Nothing, boss,” he slumps. “He’s never used magic where anyone can see it.”

“We _must_ figure out what his ability is. If Sans is a boss monster, then it stands to reason that his close relatives are, as well.”

“Are we sure they’re related?” someone chimes in from the back.

“There are only three skeletons out of the few hundred of monsters that surfaced almost a year ago,” he asserts. “Suggesting they are related is not an unreasonable assumption to make.”

Silence falls over the room as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. A lot of the intel was stuff that was either common knowledge or things he knew already. This seems to be shaping up to a complete waste of time.

“Well, if we can’t get information on him, then, how about weaknesses?” he suggests. “So far we know that monsters lost the war a thousand years ago, but none of us have any idea _why_.”

“Do you want weaknesses for all monsters? Or, weaknesses for the scientist?”

“Either or, I don’t really care. I just want something we can _use_.”

“ **well, _damn_ ,**” a familiar voice chimes in from a dark corner. “ **if you wanna know the _boss_** ** _’_ weaknesses, then it** **’s your lucky day.** ”

Drew launches out of his seat as a shiver races up and down Derrick’s spine. No… That can’t be…

Sans straightens from his darkened corner, rolling his skull around. His thick cervical vertebrae each pop noisily from the motion. “ **he fuckin** **’ _hates_ it when i rearrange his pens,** ” he informs them. “ **seriously, he** **’s got the _worst_ case of ocd i** **’ve ever fuckin** **’ seen,** ” he adds with a roll of his red eye. “ **i** **’ve _never_ seen a guy so protective of his stationary.** ”

“WHAT ARE YOU IDIOTS **_DOING!?_** ” he finds himself shouting. “ _GET HIM!_ ”

As soon as the order leaves his mouth, the group pounces on the skeleton. Or, at least they _attempt_ to. He vanishes from sight before anyone can grab hold, reappearing mere inches from Derrick sitting on the side of his pool table.

“ **he's even got a collection of gel pens,** ” Sans grins, his huge phalanges casually flicking a stray eight ball into a hole. “ **actually, the royal scientist is more like a thirteen year-old girl than most thirteen year-old girls,** ” he considers for a moment, then chuckles.

“And how many thirteen year-old girls do you know, _skeleton?_ ” Drew demands from behind Derrick.

Sans turns his head, sharp mouth frowning as his brow bones furrow. “ **... _gross_. i was just ribbin' ya, don't make it weird.** ”

“E _nough_ of this,” Derrick snarls, turning to the rack of wood cues. Before he can grab one though, they shimmer with a red glow, then sunder into sawdust.

“ **hey now, i know you and your groupies aren** **’t interested in fighting fair,** ” Sans growls lowly, the skeleton’s hot breath on his back letting him know he’s immediately behind him. “ **but _i_ am. no weapons this time. i _really_ like this jacket.** ”

Derrick swings around with a kick, intending to snap at his solar plexus, but the skeleton has already vanished. Instead one of the ‘groupies’ intend on charging into Sans collides into him. Derrick swiftly deflects and sends him to the floor instead of toppling over together.

“ **now, back to the topic** **– you wanted intel on gaster,** ” Sans teases. “ **another thing that really bothers him? _don_** ** _’t buy the wrong milk,_ for _fucks_ _sake_. it** **’s _gotta_ be sealtest homo milk, no substitutions _period_. my skull** **’s _still_ ringing from the one time i made _that_ mistake,** ” he finishes with a pained groan.

“He’s over there now!”

“ **yup.** ”

“Somebody grab him!”

“ **good luck with that.** ”

The skeleton vanishes to appear between two guys, who flail around confused as he gently pokes each of them in the cheek. They both panic and swing at each other and hit their opposite in the face, the monster having disappeared again to torment another pair.

“ **oh by the way, _never_ eat that dude's candy. _ever_. he's guaranteed to give you a horrific time about it.** ”

“Damnit, hold still!”

“ **how** **‘bout i don** **’t?** ”

Sans continues to vanish and reappear around the room, easily avoiding their attacks and even causing the guys to fall on each other. Drew even enters the fray as well, feeling about as discontented as Derrick at the unsatisfactory display. The skeleton’s grin seems to get wider as Drew approaches, deflecting his punches as he winces at hitting bone. For once he doesn’t disappear, electing to block instead. Sans finally grabs his head in his massive hand, and it looks like he’s considering squeezing the life right out of him.

“ **i** **’ve been looking _forward_ to wrecking the _shit_ outta _you_ ,**” Sans snarls lowly.

A song starts playing loudly. Is that ‘2 Legit 2 Quit’ by MC Hammer? Sans’ sockets widen as he digs into a pocket for his phone.

“ **damnit, this took way longer than i thought,** ” he grumbles at the screen, silencing the alarm. “ **alright asshole, i guess you get off _easy_ this time.** ”

He tosses Drew to the side by his head, and Derrick gapes as he crumples to the floor. As he goes to avenge his fallen partner, Sans reaches into his jacket for something. Didn’t he say no weapons?!

When he withdraws his hand, the skeleton throws something in his direction. A lot of small somethings. It’s… Confetti? Glossy pink and purple shapes shine in the air ahead of him.

“ **you** **’re _lucky_ you get dicked on, punks, ****‘cause i** **’m almost out of the stuff,** ” he laughs. “ **see you in class, cocksucker,** ” he says, mock blowing a kiss to the rich kid before disappearing into thin air.

Assorted groans fill the room as people start to get up.

“Alright,” Derrick sighs, surveying the damage. “… We need a better plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heehee. Grillbae next chapter. Once I write it.


	61. The Threesome. (Non-canon)

“OHHHHH _GRIIIILLLBYYY!_ ”

Several monsters turn to you in annoyance as you call out the owner’s name in the crowded restaurant.

At your signal, an indigo flame elemental _bursts_ through the kitchen doors, rolls on his back over the bar counter, and struts confidently towards you, wearing only a pair of ash grey sweatpants. He places his flaming fists at his hips, pushing out his well-toned abs towards you for your inspection.

“ _Amazing_ , Grillbae,” you nod your approval. “Alright, let’s get to the baby-making already! Even though, _currently_ , I’m under the impression that that’s not really possible, but there are whispers and schemes that I’m blissfully unaware of suggesting that hybrids are _totally_ a thing. Not to mention the core fic this is based off of, where that _actually_ _happens_.”

Grillby grins under his purple and blue flames, stepping towards you and tracing his heated fingertips up and down your sides. Uncharacteristically, you’ve selected a ruby red tube top to cover your tits for just such an occasion, so his hands are making direct contact with your skin, sending profoundly sexual tingles and shivers throughout your entire being.

“I can’t believe I’m going to get to finally do it with you!” you cheer. “ _And_ _Gaster!_ ”

You pull the Royal Scientist into the scene by his eggplant purple silk tie. He straightens and readjusts it as soon as you let go, grinning down at you. Soon his hands find their way into your hair, scratching your scalp tantalizingly as he delicately plays with the soft strands.

“ **wait, _really?_ _gaster?_** ” Sans has appeared next to the three of you at some point

“I’ve only ever characterized him as nice, and so far, he’s done nothing but support that,” you shrug, blissfully ignorant of the scientist’s true nature. “So, what do you think, boys? Threesome?”

“ **why not a foursome?** ” he complains.

“Sorry, Sans,” you shake your head. “I only have so many holes.”

“ **… fine. if this is how it’s gunna be, i’m gunna go kill your ex, ‘kay? bye.** ”

“WAIT, _SANS!_ ” you reach out for him and grab his jacket. “Even though Drew is a massive dickhead, for totally realistic and moral reasons, I can’t allow you to do that. There’s, like, bad consequences and things that can happen if you actually straight up kill a guy.”

“ **i guess, but,** ” he hesitates. “ **for reasons not totally unrelated to the fact that you’re about to do the nasty with two dudes who don’t have your best interests in mind, i’m thinkin’ there’s something keeping this chapter from being canon. some calendar date, or divine intervention, or some other bullshit.** ”

“ _Oh_ ,” you realize. “Okay, yeah. Murder away, then.”

While he goes you get to the smooching with your two boss monster dudes. Mettaton stops by at some point to start filming it, and the restaurant patrons have halted their individual conversations and started ordering popcorn. Once your dudes are totally and thoroughly smooched, you pull away and gasp for air.

“Okay,” you pause, catching your breath. “How do we do the _do_ , exactly?”

“ **Unfortunately, this chapter of the fanfiction was not marked with an asterisk to warn in advance for sexytimes, so we are forbidden from getting into all of the delicious details,** ” Gaster observes. “ **However, I _can_ _promise_ you, I will give you _so many babies_.** ”

“… And I will give you _none_ , because that’s how I roll,” your flaming hot Grillbae adds.

You shrug, eager to continue with tonight’s festivities. “Both sounds fine by me!”

Grillby throws you an absolutely sweltering look. “… I intend to enjoy every square inch of your delecta- _BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_.”

“Uhh, Grillbz?” you ask anxiously. “What’s the matter with you?”

He just keeps going with it, too entrenched in the oddities coming out of his flaming mouth to stop. He sounds like a tornado warning siren or something. “… _BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_ …”

You wake up, groaning as that annoying ringing sound pervades your senses. It’s your phone, your phone is making that annoying caterwauling. You scramble to silence it, just barely noticing that the date next to the time reads as April the first.

Then your brain catches up as you remember the details of that dream.

“… What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*waggles eyebrows intensely*_ How many of you were 100% down for this? Be honest :P
> 
> Real actual canon chapter to be posted for noon my time (EST timezone). Until then, enjoy this little April Fools joke!


	62. The Restaraunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and comments on my little April Fool's gag for today. Here's the _real_ chapter.

It’s been a while since you last saw Grillby. Especially since his restaurant got so popular so fast. A couple of fame-seeking human food critics decided to pay him a visit, and his popularity had exploded overnight. Of course for _you_ , that meant that he was too busy to try for a third date.

So tonight you’ve decided to surprise him.

But there’s just one absurdly tall obstacle in the way.

“ **My dear, we have barely even _begun_ your training,** ” Gaster protests, blocking the way.

You sigh and shake your head. “Sorry Doc, I haven’t seen Grillby in a while and we kind of left off awkwardly after that second date. I _really_ need to talk to him.”

“ **Have you made any progress on your own?** ” he criticizes.

Nodding, you smile up at him. “I’ve been doing that meditation exercise thing every night before bed. The tingling is nice, and it’s actually been helping me fall asleep.”

“ **And how about _manifesting_ your ability?** ” he questions. “ **We do not yet know what your power is.** ”

Mimicking his assertive posture by folding your own arms, you glare up at him as your skin prickles from the magic within you. “I’m going out tonight. That’s my decision. Now please get out of my way, Gaster.”

There’s a brief pang of anger in his posture, but he relents as he unfolds his arms and steps out of the way.

“Thank you,” you smile and relax, going to slip into your boots.

“ ** _where_ the hell are _you_ going _____?** ”

Damnit, and you almost made it out. Gaster’s still lingering, a smarmy smile pulling at the corners of his hard ivory mouth. He tilts his head towards the hallway, Sans joining the pair of you from where he was getting changed in the storage room.

“ **It seems that _____ intends to visit Grillby at his restaurant tonight,** ” the grown man tattles on you.

The red magic eye in his left socket rolls around as he grumbles. “ **seriously? i though you weren** **’t into that guy anymore.** ”

“Then you misunderstood me,” you assert.

“ **but you said he doesn** **’t talk to you about himself or something. wasn** **’t that a dealbreaker with you?** ” he inquires.

“Yes and no, but that’s part of the reason why I want to talk to him _now_ ,” you insist. “I need to work this out before we go any further, or at least find out _if_ we’re going to _get_ any further, and I’ve already been putting it off for way too long.”

“ **ugh** **… alright,** ” he surrenders.

You breathe a small sigh of relief. “Thanks, Sans.”

“ **but you** **’re not taking the bus or shit like that,** ” he suddenly barks. “ **either you let me take you or i call you a cab.** ”

“ ** _Sans_ ,**” Gaster interjects with a frown. “ **Do you not think it is already a bit late at night for a beautiful young woman such as _____ to be out on her _own?_** ”

You bristle at him getting involved in this stupid argument again, but before you can pounce Sans holds a hand up towards you in a silent signal to back off. He’s got this.

“ **you know she** **’s pretty determined, boss. i don** **’t think we have much choice here,** ” he chuckles.

Thank _YOU Sans!_

Glancing between the both of you, clearly defeated, Gaster straightens his posture and nods to you. “ **Very well then. Please keep yourself safe tonight _____, and return home before it becomes too late. We are merely concerned for your well-being.** ”

“Of course, Gaster. Good night,” you wave at him. He leaves down the hallway to his bedroom at the end. “Uh, Sans, about my options…” you begin, fretting slightly over the answer. You don’t like spending his money frivolously like this, but you’re also a bit concerned about making a guy who likes you take you to see your boyfriend.

He taps at his phone for a moment. “ **cab, right?** ”

“… I mean, if that’s _okay_ …”

“ **i** **’m already dialing.** ”

* * *

Okay, _maybe_ you should have mentally prepped yourself a bit better before getting dropped off at Grillby’s.

The restaurant is just as nice as you remember it being, dark blues and purples and dim lighting making the whole place feel warm and welcoming. But, since that first time here with Gaster, the restaurant has been opened to the public, and is now _teeming_ with monsters. Several large dogs surround a table maybe a third of their size, a fish monster and a bird monster are leaning against a higher table in the bar area, and a volcano monster is bubbling brightly in a booth across from some tall gelatin-looking monster. Wait, is that a Moldbygg?

And those are just the ones that have turned around and noticed you.

Burying your apprehension, you puff up proudly and saunter over to the bar, leaning against it immediately next to another dog monster. He startles as you move into his peripheral vision, then bares his teeth at you. But you pay him no mind, patting the polished wooden counter with the palm of your hand and nodding to the tawny cat monster wiping a glass.

“… What can I get you,” he asks, sounding bored out of his skull.

“Grillby,” you grin.

He scrunches his eyes at you as his ears go back. “Your name?”

“_____.”

That seems to be the magic word, as he abruptly sets the glass down and tosses the cloth over his shoulder. “I’ll get him,” he mutters before disappearing through double swinging doors into the kitchen.

“_____!”

That voice!

You turn in your seat just in time to catch the little runt running for you. “Hey Frisk, what are you doing here?”

The tiny ambassador beams up at you. “Just getting burgers with Chara.”

“Burgers? At a high-class place like this?”

“He makes them just for us.”

You look up at the lanky teen smirking at you. “Hey Chara. But, why _burgers_ though? When there are so many tasty options on the menu?”

She grins broadly at that, shrugging confidently. “I like burgers, and I asked him nicely.”

The princess used her magic on Grillby, to get the chef to prepare burgers. You shake your head at that. “Are you guys here by yourselves?”

“Undyne’s around, but she had to take a call from Papyrus.”

Ah, that’s right. He’s her boss.

“Don’t worry, we’re safe here. All the monsters are our friends.” Frisk anticipates your question before you can ask it. So, Chara’s not the only one working her magic tonight. Suddenly you want to be a bigger part of this secret club. You make a mental note to train with Gaster some more… Maybe with Sans around, so he doesn’t creep on your hair again.

“We’d be even _better_ if I could convince _Fluffy_ to serve us alcohol,” the princess groans. “But, _apparently_ , mom had a sign made in the kitchen that specifically denies them from getting us some beer.”

Frisk rolls their eyes and huffs as you scowl at that. “Chara, you’re _fourteen_ ,” you scold.

“ _SO?!_ ” she barks angrily. “Kids my age do it _all the time_ , _AND_ even _WORSE!_ ”

“Um… _____?”

Straightening from the kids, you look up at the bipedal cat-like bartender.

“I couldn’t get the boss’ attention as he’s on the phone, but you can wait in the back if you want,” he gestures.

“Thanks.”

You hug Frisk again, saying farewell to both the kids. At first, Chara doesn’t seem to be the hugging type, but you stay determined, holding your arms out for her, before she groans dramatically and gives you a quick hug. You ask where Asriel is, but apparently he decided to stay home for dinner with Toriel, since other monsters make him a bit nervous. He _does_ seem rather anxious and fragile most of the time. Chara notes that she’s saving some of her burger to share with him later.

The bartender gives you quick directions through the kitchen and down a set of stairs to a sitting room outside an office. You can hear him pacing around on the creaky old wood, his smoky scent permeating the room and his warm and smooth voice occasionally interjecting into the conversation.

“… Yes, _____ is due to be coming here tonight.”

Wait. He’s talking about _you?_

… Who with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to do some scene setting a little and show off the kids once more, and it wound up getting long. _Next_ chapter things will go sideways, promise. And I'll even try to finish it before too long so you're not waiting for it.


	63. The Conflagration.

He was surprised when Gaster decided to ring him immediately after he closed his call with one of his suppliers. What did he want?

“ **Good evening, Grillby. How has business been treating you?** ”

“… It has been quite busy,” he answers.

“ **I see. I regret that I have not returned in some time. It would be interesting to see your place of business having returned to normal, now that we are on the Surface.** ”

“… What are you after, Gaster?” he’s forced to ask. Gaster _never_ calls him. If he wants someone, he either goes to them or sends his sons to fetch them. It was dependent upon how much esteem he held for someone – Grillby, fortunately, was typically in the former category.

“ **I hear that congratulations are in order,** ” the royal scientist tells him smoothly. He can pick out the tinge of bitterness in his tone however, having known the old skeleton for hundreds of years.

“… For?”

“ **It seems that _____ has made her final decision on which of us she has chosen, in _spite_ of my efforts. I must now bow to the better man,** ” the skeleton says, unusually humble.

The elemental thinks about the text he received earlier from you, and grins triumphantly to himself. “… Yes, _____ is due to be coming here tonight.”

“ **I gather that I will need to put together a thousand gold pieces towards your success in our little wager?** ”

“… It was _two_ thousand gold pieces,” he reminds him, his smirk evident in his tone.

“ **I admit that I was hoping you would _forget_ that miniscule detail,** ” Gaster grumbles.

“… I _never_ forget a tab,” Grillby chuckles. “She will be _mine_ as of _tonight_. I _guarantee_ it.”

“ **I will leave her to you, then,** ” Gaster says resignedly. “ **Do keep in contact regarding your progress.** ”

“… Of course. I will call you tomorrow.”

“ **Do _not forget_ my requirement, _Grillby_ ,**” he warns. “ **In order to regain the strength of our once proud race, we _need_ a new generation of hybrids and boss monsters.** ”

Grillby restrains a spurt of hissing flames at the warning, tensing at his old friend’s tone. Children were never a consideration for him before, _nor_ are they _now_ , but he does not enjoy the implication that he would forget _anything_. That was a bridge he would just have to cross when he came to it, and no amount of pressure would change his or his soul’s decision on that. It was not an easy thing to change one’s mind on, after all.

But, he can’t exactly challenge Gaster. And he knows that.

“… Understood.”

He closes the call with his old friend, then straightens his vest and tie. He pulls on the drawer of the old mahogany desk he’d been leaning against for the phone call, reaching with an indigo flaming hand into its depths.

From it, he withdraws a small stone box. The stone has been carefully carved and patterned with the sigils of his esteemed family line, the small crevices filled with gold melted by his great-grandfather’s own hands. It helped to decorate the dark stone, with a delicate shine when passed under light. The box was smaller than his palm, with small golden hinges securing the lid, and a shiny golden clasp he clicks open with a thumb.

The stone set in the precious band was an orange-red fire opal – a tradition his father and grandfather had passed down to him. It has been carefully protected and preserved from crazing for hundreds of years, as the gem was rather sensitive to heat and humidity. He’d never thought he would get the opportunity to present it to _anyone_ \- _least_ of all a _human female_ , and a _mage_ , at that, but he had been very careful with the heirloom regardless.

He closes the box and briefly tosses it in his hands, then slips it into a pocket in his slacks. He figures he ought to check with his staff whether you’ve yet arrived.

Striding over to his office door, he opens it to find you.

Your eyes are red and wet, fury marring your expression.

… Have you been crying?

Grillby breathes a delighted sigh. “… _____, there you a-“

There’s a loud **_SMACK_** and he’s suddenly looking sideways. You’re storming your way up the stairs, and he can feel your rage burning as you leave. He touches a hand to his face as he registers what just happened.

You _hit_ him.

He thinks he’s even lost some HP from the exchange. How curious.

Then it dawns on him.

How long were you waiting outside?

* * *

 

You’re so _enraged_ you can barely see through the veil of tears as you make your way out of the restaurant and outside into the cold. You frantically wipe at them with your jacket sleeves as the March cold tries to take away the sting, your lungs and chest shuddering with the onset of painful sobs.

You had heard enough from your little eavesdropping outside his door.

He’d made a bet with someone. That he would ‘make you _his_ ’.

The whole time you were just a _game_ to him.

What the _hell_ kind of person _bets_ on whether he’ll get with a girl?!

Is _that_ why he was so flirty and pushy when you were at his place?

It makes you want to _throw up_.

You bring a fist to your mouth to gag against as you try to avoid getting sick all over the sidewalk.

The agony of emotions wracking your body almost makes you miss the wall of fire that forms directly ahead of you.

… _Grillby_.

* * *

 

The circle of blue flames close behind him. He knows you’re smart, and the evidence in your mix of emotions confirms your understanding of the situation you’re in. You know that blue attacks will hurt you if you try to pass through them, so you’ve halted your hurried pace to turn to him.

There’s a brief pang of surprise that he’s followed you, with a hint of feeling flattered that he even bothered. He latches onto that and works his magic to Amplify it.

“… You wanted to discuss something tonight,” he points out, taking a couple steps towards you and reaching for the box. “As a matter of fact, I have a proposition for you, dear _____.”

He senses the flattered feeling has left you now, and sees your hands clenched at your sides in anger. No matter. Perhaps his gift will soothe your temper?

As soon as your eyes land on the gift you gasp. He grins as more positive emotions fight their way to the surface, and gently persuades their intensity. He finishes closing the distance, holding the box in one hand and gripping your soft chin in the other. You seem too stunned to speak.

“… I had wanted to wait for a special occasion, but I find you so _irresistible_ that I couldn’t wait,” he softly coos in that tone of voice that makes women absolute putty in his masterful hands.

“Grillby, what the _f_ -“

“… _Shhh_ ,” he silences you. “Do not force yourself to answer now. I am sure you will need to time to consider it. In the meantime, why not return with me to the restaurant?”

Your mouth drops open and you back away from him. Gritting your teeth in barely-restrained fury, you violently _swat_ the heirloom out of his hand. The gold adorned box clunks against the ground, popping open as the delicate opal lands too near to the flames.

… _You resisted his magic?!_

“ARE. YOU. **FUCKING**. **_KIDDING ME?!_** ”

Now it’s Grillby’s turn to be stunned.

“You are FUCKING **GROSS!** Are you _INSANE!?_ I can’t even _BEGIN_ to express how _COMPLETELY_ **FUCKING** _**ENRAGED** I AM WITH YOU RIGHT NOW!!_ _”_

He’s completely lost control of the situation. He _never_ loses control.

“Are you SERIOUS?! You think you can just _BOX ME IN HERE_ , after I overheard that you BET MONEY ON WHETHER OR NOT YOU’D HAVE _SEX_ WITH ME?! And you think you can show me some fancy fucking RING AND THAT IT WOULD MAKE IT ALL _BETTER!?_ HOW FUCKING _DARE YOU_. _Holyshit_ , I wish I had known A-FUCKING- _LOT SOONER_ that you’re _ACTUALLY_ JUST SOME _CHAUVINISTIC_ FRAT BOY **_LOSER!!_** ”

He bristles at the name, but manages to keep his calm. He’d muster up a retort if he thought it would actually do him any good.

You wipe at your messy mouth and face, all that anger beginning to physically exhaust you.

“Just in case you’re too stupid to get this on your own, I’m a PERSON, not some fucking trophy you can earn and brag about to your _idiot friends_. _God_ , and here I thought you were _better than that_. Glad I got _that_ all figured it out,” you spit, thoroughly disgusted with him. Flicking your hand towards him with your middle finger upraised, you curse at him one final time. “GOOD _FUCKING_ **BYE**.”

… One last attempt to reign you in couldn’t hurt. Perhaps earlier was just a fluke. Perhaps he wasn’t laying his magic on thick enough. Your resistance had impressed him, but he was a monster with experience.

It’s not as if you’d know what he’s doing.

Your emotions get wistful as you turn towards the fire walling you in.

You seem to be thinking about, what _could_ have been, and how he’d previously made you feel.

He can _use_ that. Make you regret, make you come running back to him.

You straighten as his magic seizes that regret, that wistful flutter of what could have been, and washes aside the agony of betrayal. Stopping in your tracks, you slowly turn to face him.

“… As if you couldn’t get _even more depraved_ ,” you snarl.

… That was not the response he’d been expecting.

“… _____, be _rational_ ,” he asserts calmly. “I refute each and every one of your accusations. Perhaps you’ve just misheard something? I am completely willing to forgive you, of course, if you would just allow me the opportunity to explain-”

“ ** _SHUT UP._** ”

Your wrath is back in full force, in defiance of his efforts. Your hands tangle in your hair, gripping and pulling it as you scream into your arms.

“ ** _RRRRGGGHHHH_**. You’ve been _fucking around_ with my _head_ , _haven_ _’t you?!_ ”

He underestimated you, and you figured him out. And with you resisting him so readily, it’s the one accusation he is powerless to counter.

“… _____, I believe-“

“ **SHUT IT!!** ” you _scream_. “NOT _ONE_ **FUCKING** MORE WORD. I’m so FUCKING _DONE_ , alright?! I’m NEVER coming back here, I’m NEVER seeing you EVER AGAIN, do you _fucking understand?!_ Do me a favour and throw yourself into the _fucking_ _Canal_ for all I care!!”

Then you turn towards the wall of cyan flames, and his soul jumps into his throat.

You… You could get hurt.

The standing wall of fire is one of his _strongest_ attacks.

With barely a thought he changes the flames to orange. You pass through at that moment, and he breathes, _relieved_. Relieved that you’re unharmed.

… But you’re _gone_.

And you’re _never_ coming back.

Grillby… Grillby has _never_ been rejected before. Has never had such a significant wound to his ego before.

He collects the fallen ring and jewelry case from the ground and walks briskly back to his restaurant. He steps behind the bar and grabs a top shelf bottle of rum. His bar hand asks him a question, that cat monster with the most _insignificant_ of names, but the elemental sizzles sharply in his general direction, and he gets the message to leave him be. Returning to his office, he slumps into his chair, twists the cap open, and downs the smoky brown substance straight from the bottle.

Grief is an emotion he’s found in others, _used_ in others, many times before.

It’s not one he’s accustomed to for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was Grillby's entire purpose. He's the one to break her heart and remind Readz that monsters can live up to their name. _That's_ why she goes further with him than with anyone else, that's why she get her hopes up for him. But in the end? He's _just like_ Drew, _just like_ Derrick, thinking he can flatter her with some sweet words and win her like a prize.
> 
> I also wanted to try and write someone who was a physical flirt, and give her more reason for this to hurt her so much. That's why chapter 50 happened.
> 
> Next chapter, who does Reader go to for comfort?  
> A: Gaster  
> B: Sans


	64. The Ice Cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for some Gaster comfort?
> 
> I'm just kidding ;) April Fools is over.
> 
> I stopped counting Sans when his votes got to about 86 or so, and they were still rolling in so I'm pretty sure it got to be over a hundred. Maybe around 110. It's pretty crazy how bad you want bone boy :P
> 
> Also last chapter was the most comments on one chapter that I've seen to date. Holy damn.

“You guys let _____ walk out of here _crying?_ ” Undyne demands. “What the hell _happened?_ ”

“It was Grillby’s fault,” Frisk states matter-of-factly.

“And Frisk wouldn’t let me go after her!” Chara immediately complains, standing from her seat.

“It’ll work out,” they confidently claim, nodding towards the warm brownie dessert they start idly working away at with their spoon. They take a small bite of it, barely large enough to chew, before swallowing and pointing the spoon at the princess. “Besides, who do you think she’ll run to?”

Chara gapes. “… Sans?”

Frisk nods, then Chara sits back down, successfully placated.

“You were going about it all wrong, sis. You ought to leave the ships to the _real_ pro,” Frisk beams.

“… I can’t believe you were on to me this whole time,” Chara smirks, bringing her hands up to offer the ambassador a tiny applause. “ _Bravo_.”

“Come _on_ ,” they scoff. “You thought you knew better than the Legendary Flirtmaster? Why do you think I delayed her going to see him? Timing is _everything_ sometimes.”

“You know, I think your power is probably scarier than mine,” the princess admits, crossing her arms over her body.

Undyne’s eyes narrow at the two human kids. “What are you two twerps going on about?” 

* * *

 

He appears right next to you as soon as you call his number.

You’re too busy wiping your eyes to see him properly, but you can feel his arm wrap around your shoulders as he steers you in a new direction. You go willingly, all the fight having left you a while ago. The streets are dark and empty and you barely register that a misty rain starts falling. You’re not sure where he’s taking you exactly, but after turning a corner or two you seem to already be there. He removes his arm briefly to dig into a pocket for his cash, but returns it just as quickly once he’s got his money in hand.

“ **i want two of those,** ” he barks.

“This for _Papyrus_ again?” the blue monster groans.

“ **don** **’t gimme any shit today man. just hurry up sell me some fuckin** **’ ice cream, alright?** ”

“… _Whatever_.”

The next thing you know, you’re sitting in a park near your old work. He gently urges you to a wooden bench along the side of the path, and once you sit down he immediately hands you something cold and wrapped in plastic.

“ **this might help,** ” he suggests.

“… Why ice cream?” you ask.

“ **’** **cause grillby _hates_ cold shit,** ” he answers matter-of-factly.

Come to think of it, everything he ever made you was always warmed up first, wasn’t it? A weak smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as you start to unwrap it. It’s ice cream alright, bright red in colour in a chocolate-covered waffle cone.

“… This is really good,” you observe after sampling it with a lick. It tastes bittersweet and fruity, like cranberries or raspberries. Maybe both?

“ **figured you** **’d like it,** ” he chuckles. “ **then again, _everybody_ likes ice cream.** ”

“Except Grillby.”

He grins toothily at you. “ **except grillby,** ” he confirms.

You shudder with a restrained sob, leaning into his shoulder.

“ **tell me what happened?** ” he offers cautiously.

Sighing, you shake your head against his jacket. “I don’t really want to get into it…”

“ **well, i can** **’t take you home with the way you are right now,** ” he grumbles.

“Why’s that?”

“ **’** **cause you look a _mess_ , sweetheart,**” he says sincerely, digging into one of his zippered pockets. He withdraws a couple of napkins and starts trying to dab your face with it. You take it from him and finish the job. “ **c** **’mon, you** **’re not going to feel any better unless you talk about it,** ” he insists.

“ _Sans_ _…_ ”

Your ice cream suddenly disappears out of your hand.

“ **i _was_ going to share, but if you** **’re gunna be like _that_ ,**” he grins, holding up your cone proudly in his hand.

“Sans!” you whine, reaching for it.

He pulls away initially, then offers it back to you with a serious look. “ **talk to me.** ”

He releases it easily, bringing his arm up around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“… Grillby made a bet with someone that he’d get to sleep with me or something.”

Sans’ hand grips your shoulder tighter.

“I overheard him while he was on the phone. I guess it was for a lot of monster cash? I just…”

His thumb strokes your shoulder through your coat as you shake with another sob threatening to break. You press your available palm against an eye, trying to stop the tears from coming out.

“… I _hate_ it when people do that. When they treat me like a _thing_. And he’s been doing that all along and when I found out I just couldn’t _stand_ it-!”

“ **what happened to your hand?** ” he asks suddenly, taking it in his. The shock of warm, hard hands against your skin is surprising.

You barely even noticed before. It looks like your knuckles got burned. You clench your teeth against the pain you’re now suddenly aware of.

“… I hit him,” you tell him.

“ ** _nice,_** ” he grins proudly. Then his smile abruptly falls. “ **uhh, but don** **’t go around hitting monsters, okay? it** **’s an _extremely_ bad idea.** ”

His magic stings uncomfortably as he works to try and heal your hand, taking away the pain and the huge heat blister you’ve earned for yourself. Once he’s done the skin looks a bit rough, but at least it doesn’t hurt anymore.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“ **…** **you were saying?** ”

You bury your face in the chest of his jacket.

“ **there** **’s more, isn** **’t there.** ”

You nod against him.

“ **tell me everything that happened, sweetheart,** ” he gently coaxes you.

Sniffling into his coat and shuddering with another sob choking at you, you try to find the words to tell him.

“He was using _magic_ on me, like _Chara_. I figured it out when he tried to make me come back…”

Sans grinds his teeth against you, holding you protectively against his side.

“Did I… Did I ever even _like_ him, in the first place?”

“ **’** **course you did, sweetheart,** ” he tries to reassure you in that raspy voice of his. “ **he can** **’t affect anything that** **’s not already there.** ”

For some reason that just makes it hurt _more_. You whimper an agonized sob against his ribs. Sans moves his hand from your shoulder lower, to rub at your lower back. It’s soothing.

“ **anything else?** ” he asks gently.

“He also, uh… He even brought out a fucking _engagement ring_ to try as some last-ditch attempt to get me back,” you add, feeling angry again.

“ ** _wait a fucking second,_** ” Sans rasps sharply. “ **grillby _proposed!?_** ”

“… Sort of?” you reply, confused by his reaction. “He didn’t get down on one knee or even say the words really, but the gesture was unmistakable.”

Sans was clearly not expecting _that_. His jaw drops open, then clenches and works in anger. “ **the hell was that guy _thinking?_** ”

“I don’t know,” you sigh.

“ **are you absolutely _sure_ it wasn** **’t just a gift or something?** ”

“He said I could ‘answer later’, so an important question was implied.”

“ ** _damn_ , grillby. what the _fuck?_** ”

“I gather that he doesn’t propose to girls on the third date very often?”

“ **he doesn** **’t propose to anyone at _all_ ,**” he snarls.

“Huh,” you hum flatly.

“ **…** **maybe he liked you more than he let on?** ” he suggests.

You flinch away from him and hold a hand over your eyes.

“ **shit. _fuck_. _that_ was the wrong thing to say, wasn** **’t it?** ” he slaps a huge bony hand against his skull as he grumbles at himself. “ **sans, you _idiot_. _fuck_. uh, hey, c** **’mere sweetheart.** ”

The large skeleton draws you into him, and you’re careful to hold your ice cream hand out so it doesn’t get crushed by the gesture. Your body shakes with a sob, but he puts a hand on your back as if to chase it away.

“ **you deserve at _least_ a hundred times better than a sentient fucking _matchstick_ like grillby, you know?** ” he tells you, his rasping voice getting lower until the scratchiness almost turns into a purr.

He’s so warm, and his puffed up winter jacket makes for a great buffer against his hard ribs. Being held like this by him is absurdly comfortable, and you snuggle your face deeper into the rough waterproof fabric.

“ **i don** **’t know what the _fuck_ he was thinkin** **’, making bets on you or shoving a ring in your face, but he** **’s always been one cunning motherfucker. honestly, if it were up to me? i never would** **’ve let you anywhere near** **‘im, knowing the _bullshit_ he tries to pull** **… but, uh, i didn** **’t want you to feel like i was making choices for you, sweetheart,** ” he purrs.

His hands start to rub up and down your side and your back, just gentle pressure to reassure you and let you know that he’s got you. They’re hot and dry against the cold misty air, and the soothing gesture begins to relax you.

“ **he treats women like a fucked up _game_ , like the more he snares the more points he gets or some shit. of _course_ he** **’s got the presence to draw them in, then it** **’s just a matter of turning up their attraction until they find** **‘im completely irresistible.** ”

He accidentally pushes your coat and shirt up, leaving your bare skin open to the wet air, but he carefully tugs the fabric back down and smooths it out with warm bony fingers.

“ **i guess i wanted you to be different** **– you deserve better than that shit,** ” he grumbles. “ **i** **’ve _always_ known you** **’re special, sweetheart, and a guy like that doesn** **’t deserve you. you need someone who can treat you like you** **’re worth it,** **‘cause you _are_.** ”

“You’re actually really cuddly,” you think aloud.

Your voice comes out muffled against the black fabric, but he can hear you just fine. You can’t see it from this angle, but Sans’ skull instantly dots with rose-coloured perspiration and his hands briefly freeze their ministrations. You take a reflexive sniff of his coat where your nose lands.

… Maybe you don’t mind the smell of mustard so much anymore. It actually kind of blends in with his natural musk. It’s… Nice.

You straighten in your seat. Just _where_ were your thoughts going just now?

“… What _is_ this, anyway?” you ask, holding out your half-finished ice cream cone and intent on a distraction. “I’ve never had ice cream like it before.”

“ **it** **’s called mean cream** **– a monster treat from underground,** ” he explains, latching on to the subject change like a drowning man to a life raft.

“… Mean Cream? Seriously?”

He nudges you and nods towards the wrapper you’ve got still around the base of the cone. “ **what** **’s your wrapper say?** ” he asks.

You uncrumple it and flatten it out to read it.

“… ‘You look super spiffy today’,” you read aloud for him.

“ **…** **wait, really?** ” He seems surprised. “ **lemme see that.** ”

You offer him the wrapper and he snatches it. His hard skull crinkles around his nasal passage, red eye going back and forth as he reads it, the corners of his smile turning down in a frown.

“Was there something wrong with it?”

“ **normally it** **’s supposed to insult you,** ” he explains. “ **that** **’s why it** **’s called mean cream.** ”

“… What the heck is the appeal to _that?_ ”

“ **fuck if i know. maybe it was just our thing?** ” he shrugs.

“Monsters are weird.”

“ **hey, in our defense, so are humans.** ”

“… Okay, that’s fair,” you snicker.

* * *

Sans is glad you’re feeling better. He really couldn’t leave you like that, after all.

Your red soul had darkened significantly from your fight with that purple torch _asshole_. _Way more_ than when you had originally rejected him, in fact. He’s not sure what he actually said that helped, but he’s glad whatever it was perked you almost all the way back up. One of the _last_ things he needs right now is for you to do that quick DT recharging shit in front of his dad.

He spares a glance at the ice cream wrapper still in his hand.

It had said something _nice_ to you, just like it had for Frisk that one time. He wasn’t expecting that you’d be a pacifist like the kid, with all that Wrath you can hurl at the drop of a hat. He’d have thought you’d have some LV already. Then again, as crap as humans are, it’s actually rare for them to go around dusting each other over petty shit like monsters so readily do.

For him, though, the message said nothing about his spiffiness.

_Whimsum. Froggit. Ice drake. Moldsmal. And countless others._

_… Any one of them could have been someone_ _’s _____._

Crumpling it up with an angry look, he throws it in the nearby trash can.

“ **…** **let** **’s get out of here, _____,** ” he suggests anxiously. “ **let** **’s go home.** ”

He grips you around the shoulders as he teleports away, trying to escape the feeling of his sins crawling on his back.

Maybe _he_ doesn’t deserve you, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon for Mean Cream - It's _still_ Nice Cream but all the monsters are just such bastards that they don't know that it can actually say nice things. Oh, and I couldn't find any good phrases it says with an LV higher than one, so that line is actually one of Flowey's. My ex stumbled across it when he killed some monsters in the ruins the one time he played, but not a full genocide, and he didn't kill Toriel. Creepy fucker just names the random encounter mobs and says "Any one of them could've been someone's Toriel."
> 
> Also yeah, she couldn't have gone to Undyne because Undyne was at the restaraunt. There is a reason for everything I do :)
> 
> The last pseudo-bachelor we have on our list is Gaster. We are so very close to the end now. I had originally planned for him to break her heart in a specific way, but with Grillby out of the way first it actually doesn't quite work the same. So now the calculating bastard needs a new plan. Help me figure it out by voting on these polls:
> 
> Where does he take you on your last date?  
> A: Somewhere nice  
> B: Stay home
> 
> And, should I sneak in a fun plot chapter first?  
> A: Yes  
> B: No
> 
> Let me know in the comments below :)


	65. The Princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underage drinking ahead. Don't worry everybody's fine it's just silly stuff I swear.

As soon as you get home you put your winter jacket and boots away in the front hall closet, while Sans shuffles into the kitchen without removing either his soggy running shoes or his coat. He throws open a cupboard and grabs a bag of popcorn, ripping off the plastic wrapper and unfolding it before putting it in the microwave.

You attempt to head down the hall to his bedroom, but he grabs your shoulders from behind and gently redirects you back towards the livingroom.

“Sans?”

“ **c** **’mon, let** **’s watch a movie or something.** ”

“Uh,” you stammer. “Okay? What did you have in mind?”

“ **i don** **’t know, what do chicks like when they** **’re sad?** ” he asks openly, and you chortle at the bluntness of it. “ **something sappy, right? how about the notebook?** ”

“Oh my _god_ ,” you chuckle. “I’m not sure which surprises me more – The fact that you just offered to watch The Notebook with me, or the fact that you actually own it on DVD.”

“ **it** **’s one of papyrus** **’,** ” he defends. “ **i just happen to live where he keeps his shit.** ”

“Pfft. _Well_ ,” you hum. “I’m not actually much for sappy romance stuff on most days, but how about we watch something else?”

“ **oh, _good_ ,**” he breathes absently. Clearly he wasn’t actually too thrilled about watching chick flicks with you.

“Let me get changed for bed and see what I have on my shelf first, okay?” you snicker.

“ **alright. i** **’ll set up the tv.** ”

You head into Sans’ old room and get changed as promised, grabbing one of your DVDs off of your shelf. He might like Avatar: The Last Airbender, you suppose. It’s pretty funny. With the season one box set tucked under your arm, you come out of the room right as Gaster’s bedroom door swings open.

“ **You are here?** ” he asks, surprised. “ **I thought you went over to Grillby** **’s?** ”

“Ugh,” you groan. “Don’t remind me.”

His hands are on your available one and you relent just this once, not really feeling up for another fight.

“ **My dear, did something happen?** ” he continues, sounding concerned. “ **Come to think of it, your soul _does_ appear to be darker than usual.** ”

Your soul darkened? “What does that mean?”

“ **sweetheart? you comin** **’?** ”

You give Gaster a half-hearted smile before pulling your hand away from him, turning towards the livingroom. “Be right there Sans!”

Gaster hums to himself, taking out his phone as he’s mired in thought. He withdraws his phone from a pocket, remembering the text he’d received earlier.

The ambassador worked in strange ways to be sure, but this might be the most perplexing thing they’ve ever done.

No matter, the old skeleton grins. It appears to have worked out in his favour.

* * *

The next night, you’re swilling beer at Undyne’s place.

“I can’t believe he _proposed_ ,” she chortles. “ _That_ chauvinist prick?”

“ **i was surprised too. i can** **’t even imagine that guy ever settling down,** ” Sans chuckles.

“Well, it’s not like _____ would’ve accepted anyway,” she points at you as you distract yourself with a swig. “Tough bitch like you? As _if_ you’d let yourself get tied down by some _guy_. You don’t need ‘em. You’re balsier than any of ‘em combined,” she burps.

You blush at the praise. Then you think for a second. “Hey Undyne, did he ever, uh…”

She pauses with her beer an inch from her mouth. “Did he what?”

“… Use magic on you, to get you into bed with him?” you finish awkwardly.

“ _Pffft_ ,” she chuckles. “No _chance_ , nerd. He can’t affect something that’s not there.”

“ **oh man,** ” Sans adds, cackling loudly. “ **don** **’t tell her.** ”

“Tell me what?” you automatically ask.

“Now she’s curious, you big idiot. I’ve _gotta_ tell her,” she sharply grins.

“ ** _noooooo,_** ” the ordinarily tough skeleton bitterly whines.

“Okay, listen up punk; Sans and I used to go out.”

You gasp. “Wait, _really!?_ ”

“Yup. For almost a _month_ ,” she nods. “But then, there came a night where we wanted to, _y_ _’know_.”

“ **you mean the worst mistake of my life,** ” he grumbles, dragging a hand down his face. But there’s a smile bleeding through.

Your interest is piqued. Leaning forward, you say “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, we got back to his place…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Got most of our clothes off…”

“Yeah?”

“And, as soon as he took his shorts off, I was just like ‘Nope! _No thanks!_ I do not want _any_ of that,’” Undyne cackles. “ _Surprise bitch_ , I’m gay!”

Sans starts laughing nervously, meanwhile you’re left with more questions than answers. Sans is a skeleton, isn’t he?

“ **it was a _little_ mortifying,** ” he muses aloud. “ **i** **’d _never_ had that kind of reaction to my cock before,** ” he giggles, going to take a sip of his beer.

Okay, so, _apparently_ , he _does_ have something down there, you realize as you try to shake the flustered blush off of your face. Sans seems to be eyeing you from his spot on the recliner, thoroughly enjoying your expression betraying your thoughts. Did he just waggle his brow bones at you?! God _damnit_ Sans.

“Hey, so how are Frisk and Chara doing?” you ask, hoping for a topic change. “I didn’t get to talk to them much last night.”

“They’re the same as always. Frisk’s hanging out with Papyrus tonight, and Chara I dropped off at some college party,” Undyne shrugs.

Your brain does an emergency halt as you nearly spit out your beer. Sans’ eye sockets get dark.

“… _College party?!_ ”

“Yeah?” Undyne says, squinting at you. “Something wrong with that?”

“ _Everything_ ,” you say, setting your beer down. “ _Everything_ is wrong with that.”

“Explain?” she charges. “What the heck is wrong with a college party? I thought she was trying to, I don’t know, make some connections for when she’s ready for college herself or something. Maybe talk shop with people attending already?”

Chara must have used her magic to get her way, you realize. “Chara is _fourteen years old,_ and she’s at a party with guys five years older than her or more, who might be drinking, doing drugs, and possibly even having _sex_ while they’re at it.”

Undyne seems to start turning white.

“… Oh no,” she chokes.

“Oh no is _right_.”

Sans downs the last of his booze and heaves his massive self out of the recliner. “ **alright, let** **’s go save our damn princess from horny college boys.** ” 

* * *

 

“Whoa, _dude_ ,” a guy stops you at the doorway into the noisy house. “Are you guys, like, part of our dorm or somethin’? ‘Cause you can’t come in here if you’re not.”

Sans steps ahead of you, absolutely towering over the human. “ ** _move._** ”

It seems the ornery skeleton has some mental manipulation tactics of his own up his sleeve, as the ‘dude’ quickly stumbles out of the way.

When you find Chara… She’s _laughing_.

It seems that the students have constructed some sort of pillow throne for her to sit on, and there’s even a girl doing her nails on one side, with a guy plucking green grapes from a stem on the other, feeding them to her by mouth. In the centre of the room are two guys flapping their arms and clucking like chickens. Several bystanders are lining the walls of the room, silently observing the show.

The princess claps her hands at the display, nail polish girl and grape guy halting their tasks until they receive further instructions.

“Alright, okay,” she snickers, then snaps her fingers for attention. “Somebody get me another one of those jello thingies and, like, a wand or something,” she orders.

A red jello shot and a rainbow-coloured feather duster are promptly presented to the princess.

“Good enough!” she says, taking them with glee. “You two, come here and kneel before your queen!”

The two guys who had previously been clucking like chickens move to kneel on the carpet in front of her. She waves the feather duster around like a knight’s sword.

“Thank you, you’ve both been great,” she giggles. “I dub thee Knights of the Dorm, and you shall henceforth be known as Biscuit and Gravy,” she finishes, quickly tapping each of them on a shoulder with the duster.

They look at each other, confused at the nonspecific instructions. “Hey,” one asks. “Are we _both_ called Biscuit and Gravy, or is it like, _he_ _’s_ Biscuit,” he points a thumb at his partner, “And _I_ _’m_ Gravy?” he finishes, pointing to himself.

“The second one.”

“Oh, okay. Uh wait,” he continues. “Which one of us is Biscuit?”

Chara stares at him flatly, then shrugs. “Figure it out.”

“Oh, okay.”

Undyne crinkles her face in confusion. “What the hell am I even looking at right now?”

“ _CHARA_ ,” you bark.

She looks up at you and scoffs.

“Aww, can’t you guys go away? I’m having _fun_ ,” she pouts, waving her hands dismissively at you.

“ **time to go home, kid,** ” Sans says evenly.

You march across the room and grab her by the wrist, yanking her off her pillow throne.

“Wait, _wait!_ ” she whines. “Cindy’s not done with my nails!”

“That’s right!” The girl apparently named Cindy calls after you.

As you go for the front door, the bystanders all stand up from their seats to block you in.

“Uhh,” Chara stammers, then sighs. “It’s… It’s okay, guys. I guess I’d better get going.”

With that, they all move back to their seats in unison.

… Wow, if _that_ isn’t ever creepy.

Once outside, Sans drags her onto his back piggyback style.

“Aren’t you just going to teleport her straight home?” you ask of him hauling her onto him like cargo.

“ **how many jello shots did you have, kid?** ” he asks the princess.

“… Twelve?” she burps.

He looks back to you and shakes his head. “ **we** **’ve gotta walk it or she** **’ll barf.** ”

“How often has she done this?” you ask.

Undyne rubs her eyes with her palms. “Too often.”

“I can handle it!” the princess complains.

“Where are we going?”

“ **the embassy,** ” Sans answers, stalking off in apparently the right direction.

“You know what would be a way _better_ idea?” Chara smoothly asks. “Going back to the party!”

He stops in his tracks as he gets a funny look on his face.

Undyne pokes him for a second, then seems to falls under the same spell.

“Chara, we’re taking you _home_ ,” you assert, hooking arms with both of the monsters and urging them forward.

“… How did you _do_ that!?” she gapes. "Is it your magic?"

“ **i think _____** **’s right,** ” he hums.

“Yeah,” the fish sergeant agrees. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one night kiddo.”

“UGHHH!” she scowls down at you. “_____ why’d you have to go and ruin it!? AND DON’T CALL ME _KID!_ If it wasn’t for my stupid _plan_ way back when I’d be older than SANS, YOU KNOW!”

… Plan? What plan?

“ **kid, you** **’re rattling my bones with your flailing. knock it off.** ”

“ _Yeah_ ,” she hiccups. “Me an’ Ashriel were gunna break the barrier an’ save all the monsters.”

“ **kid, shut up.** ”

“But he was too _nice!_ And we didn’t get _any_ friggin’ souls!”

“ ** _shut your damn mouth_.** ”

“All we had to do was combine souls an’ cross the barrier an’ take some from the humans, but they freaked out and attacked ‘im. Us. Attacked _us_. I _think_ we were an ‘us’?”

“ **chara, seriously, _shut it_.** ”

“But I had to, um, die for it, so I ate some flowers I knew were poisonous. So, _yeah!_ If I hadn’t _died_ and stuff, I could be partying all I want to, you know?! I’d be TWENTY-SIX, not stuck at _fourteen!_ ”

“ **well,** ” he sighs. “ **you** **’ve done it now.** ”

Your mouth had fallen open at some point during her drunken tirade.

“YOU SERIOUSLY _DIED!?_ ”

She startles from where she’s riding Sans and turns to you. “Uhhh… You didn’ ‘ear that.”

“I think she heard that,” Undyne smirks.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Chara swears, eyes darting all over the place. “Uhh, _quick_ , kiss Sans!”

“I’m not doing that,” you reject.

“ **aww,** ” he pouts. You throw him a teasing smirk.

“WHAT!? _AGAIN!?_ ” she rants, bouncing around on Sans’ back. “I _HATE_ THIS! HOW DO YOU _DO_ TH- WHOops oh god I’m gonna barf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chara to my mind is definitely the kind of teenager that wants to get into things not for her way too early. There's been a couple of references to it already, one very recent. Fortunately, thanks to her magic, no one can actually take advantage of her - If anything it's the other way around.
> 
> Also Reader just learned a very big secret. I feel like the dialogue and narration is garbage leading up to that reveal but it's what I got and I couldn't find a way to fix it.
> 
> Biscuit and Gravy are references to my bestie's space comedy novel involving chickens at a new colony on an alien world. I can't wait to edit it!


	66. The Prince.

“I’ll buy you a new coat or shomethin’,” the princess mumbles.

“ **i** **’m gunna hold you to that, princess,** ” the skeleton scowls.

He’s switched with you so that you’re carrying the teen on your back now that her stomach is empty, since he had to shuffle her off to get his coat off and teleported it home to deal with later. Chara in all her lankiness is surprisingly light in weight, so it doesn’t bother your back to carry her. Undyne had left a few minutes ago since she had work in the morning, and you promised to text her tomorrow to let her know how things went. She also seemed anxious about seeing the Queen for some reason.

The embassy, and apparently where Chara lives, is an unassuming brown brick building only a couple of blocks away from downtown. Two large dogs stand guard by the door – That is to say, dog _monsters_ , as they are bipedal and wearing heavy metal armour with halberd-like weapons in hand. They snarl and block your path, glaring down at you and bringing their weapons to bear.

You glare at them right back as you shift Chara’s weight on your back. “I’ve got your princess, let me through,” you bark. Hopefully they can’t see how bad you’re shaking right now. Both of them are growling at you, teeth bared and mouths dripping with saliva as they regard you like a tasty piece of meat.

One sticks his head in the air and howls a short note. You try to hang on to your courage as he returns to glare at you.

You suddenly loud footsteps that are intent on making their presence known as stomp through the building in front of you, getting louder as they approach. The large wooden doors fly open and you’re greeted with a monster you’ve never seen before. A new snout crinkles angrily, showing off its own set of long yellowed canines.

“For heaven’s _sake_ it is past _ten o_ _’clock at night_ , _what_ is the _meaning_ of that _racke_ \- Oh.”

Before you, the tall monster in black and red robes regards the sight before her severely. Her white fur seems to stand on end at the audacity of the interruption all over her exposed neck, head, arms, and even on the backs of her large paws. She has small horns protruding from the top of her head, one of them chipped and missing the tapered point, and her red and yellow eyes scan you, your cargo, and the skeleton behind you briefly as she silently weighs the situation in her head.

“… Get in here. **_Now_** ,” she orders tersely, sighing and turning back into the building.

She leaves the doors behind her open and the dogs begin to relax and stand down. You take the invitation for what it is, and step into the building right after her.

Behind you, Sans has his mouth open as if he was about to speak, but clenches his teeth as he shuffles in after you, red droplets of sweat beginning to bead all over his skull. Anxious over how this is going to go, he steps in after you, closing the doors behind him with his magic.

* * *

“What happened??”

Azzy’s all over the princess as you unload her onto a soft-looking couch in what appears to be their livingroom. The flower disappears into the floor like he’s blooming in reverse, only to reappear suddenly sprouting out of the cushions next to Chara’s face.

“She went to a party she shouldn’t have and drank a lot of alcohol,” you sigh. “Her body’s not handling the poison very well.”

“P- _POISON!?!_ ” he panics. His stem angles and shudders in uncomfortable ways before nuzzling his small face against her cheek. Chara moans incoherently, the princess deeply relaxed as the booze has numbed her senses.

You slam your hand against your face. Stupid, _stupid_ _____, you silently scold yourself. She’d said something about eating poisonous flowers just _minutes_ ago! “It was just alcohol,” you try to reassure him. “She’s going to be fine with some rest, okay? I promise.” Bad joke. Bad, _bad_ joke.

“You can’t _ever_ do that to me again, okay?! Chara, I m- _mean_ it,” the flower insists next to her ear, voice high with panic.

Chara scrunches her face up, then her closed eyes seem to droop sorrowfully. “… Sorry bro,” she mumbles hoarsely.

“Hey,” you interrupt. “Um… Azzy. Is your name actually Asriel?”

He blinks, turning to look up at you. “Um… Y-yes, actually?”

One mystery solved, then. “I have several new questions to ask you, but I think they can wait until the morning. Can you help me get Chara drinking some water and ready for bed?”

“Y-yes, anything I can do to help,” he stammers softly.

* * *

“ ** _Explain._** ”

Sans rocks his skull to one side as he attempts to find the words for the queen in front of him.

“ **…** **chara used her power on undyne so she** **’d take her to a college party. she had a lot to drink, but _____ seems to think she** **’ll recover fine with water and rest.** ”

“I was not asking about _Chara_ ,” Toriel clarifies. “I am speaking of the fact that there is _yet another_ Determined child on my doorstep.”

“ **…** **right,** ” he coughs.

“Is the Royal Scientist aware?” she asks him, going for a softer tone this time.

“ **…** **he is.** ”

“I see.”

The tall goat woman shifts from her large recliner, standing and going over to her desk for her glasses and to sort through some documents.

“How do you think she would like a permanent vacation to anywhere in the world she chooses?” she muses aloud.

The skeleton jerks from his own chair to look at her. “ **look, your majesty, i don** **’t think that** **’s going to go over so well,** ” he struggles.

“Are you suggesting she _stay_ here?” she asks curtly, looking at him over her glasses.

“ **she** **’s in kind of a rough patch, y** **’know** **… and, she** **’s already been staying at our place, or else she** **’d** **‘ve been on the streets,** ” he explains, rubbing the backs of his cervical vertebrae with a large hand as he sweats anxiously. “ **dad** **’s also kind of attached already, y** **’know, and he** **’s even been trying to figure out her ability with her. i don** **’t think it** **’d work out so well for us.** ”

“All the more reason for her to be _removed_ ,” she counters. “I can leave her with enough gold to get her comfortably situated anywhere else she desires.”

“ **okay, i _get_ that, but-** “

“What _is_ it, _Sans?_ ” she hisses.

“ **…** **you** **’ve also only just met her,** ” he chuckles nervously. “ **she has a real bug up her butt about people makin** **’ her decisions for her or trying to give her stuff or even just _help_. i** **’ve been at the receiving end of her wrath a few times already, just tryin** **’ to get her to take care of _herself_ of all things. if you offered her a trip around the world on a golden platter, i doubt she** **’d take it** **– if anything, i think she** **’d probably throw it into your face,** ” he grins.

The tall goat woman straightens to her full height and runs her pawns down the length of her snout, closing her eyes as she breathes. “Dear _god_ Sans, do _not_ tell me that you have fallen for a _human?_ ” she charges, eyes snapping open to examine his response.

His skull dots with more red perspiration as he nervously turtles his neck into his red t-shirt. The regal figure sighs.

“… Oh, good _grief_.”

* * *

“I don’t _want_ to.”

You’ve propped her up in a chair by her vanity and put a glass of water in one of her hands and two Advil in her other. You’ve stolen the edge of her huge canopy bed to sit on. With the scarlet red, pink, and burgundy accents, it definitely feels like a room that belongs to a princess.

Asriel had helped you encourage her towards her room, even summoning up large thick vines to usher her in the right direction when she resisted you trying to move her by yourself. She was more willing to listen to him than to you, but the exercise seemed to tire him out, so he left a minute ago to brush his teeth.

“Come on, Chara. Take your medicine and finish that glass,” you insist.

“ _Noooo_ _…_ ” she whines. “Can’t I just sleep?”

“If you fall asleep now, you’re going to feel really terrible in the morning if you don’t drink.”

“Ugh,” she scowls. Finally, she pops the pills in her mouth and chugs down some water. She removes the glass from her mouth, then her eyes widen as she goes to drain the glass. Once it’s empty she shoves it back into your hands with a huff.

“There. Can I go sleep now?”

“We should get your teeth brushed first.”

“AUGH!”

“Chara seriously, you threw up all over Sans’ jacket tonight. Do you _really_ want to taste that in the morning?” you remind her.

“But the water helped.”

“But there still could be some stuck in your teeth,” you remind her with a grimace.

“Gross. Okay, _fine_ ,” she relents.

She shuffles off to her bathroom and finds her tooth brush and toothpaste. She squeezes some onto the bristles and starts vigorously working at her mouth. She’s either fully on autopilot, or she’s feeling a little better already. Once she spits she wipes her mouth and turns away from the counter.

“Don’t forget to take your contacts out,” you remind her. “If you sleep with them in they could wind up behind your eyes.”

She grumbles as she turns back to her bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet door open. Looking up and blinking, the red-coloured lenses are removed from her eyes, revealing that her natural colour is actually a pretty slate blue.

“Do you need help getting into your PJs?” you ask once she’s done.

“I’m not a _child_ , I’ll be fine,” she huffs.

Walking back into her bedroom, she turns to you and scowls.

“I can’t change with you in here,” she barks.

Right, of course. You head out the bedroom door and close it behind you. Through it, you hear her sigh and immediately flop on the bed, so you open it again.

“Chara, you need to actually get changed,” you tell her.

She crawls up the bed for a pillow to throw at you. “GO AWAY.”

“ _Chara_ …”

The princess huffs and rolls onto her back. You head over to her dresser and find a pajama shirt and pants that seem to match and throw them at her. They land on her face and she groans bitterly.

You move to stand in front of her and fold your arms. “I will seriously strip you down and dress you myself,” you threaten. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“I’m not a _doll_ ,” she whines, rolling over and burying her face into one of the many remaining silk pillows.

“No, you’re not. But I think you’re going to be very uncomfortable in the morning if you fall asleep in your clothes.”

Asriel pops up from the bed sheets near her eyes and gently pats her face with a scratchy vine. It seems he’s done with his own night routine.

“P-please, Chara,” he whispers gently. “Do it for me?”

Her eyes snap open and she softens at the small flower’s pleading expression. She sighs, raising a hand to pat his petals gently. “… Okay, bro,” she surrenders with a small smile.

At that she sits up, and you get the hint that it’s safe to leave her to change now. Shutting the door softly behind you, you yawn as you notice Asriel sprouting from the carpet next to your feet. You step away instinctively, worried he might get trampled, and kneel down next to him.

“Thank you, for helping Chara,” he says shyly. “I know she’s not the, um, _easiest_ person to get along with, heh,” he adds with a small laugh.

“I _heard_ that Azzy!” the princess shouts from inside her room. The flower seems to gulp and lean away from the door as something suddenly hits it with a soft thud. “ _Traitor!_ ”

You chuckle at that. “It’s no problem,” you reply.

“Is… Is she really going to be okay?” he asks nervously.

“I think so. Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of drunk friends before.”

Asriel looks up at you brightly. “Y-you’re really nice,” he admires.

“Heh,” you shrug. “Not really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more plot chapter after this, and then we'll finish off Gaster. Also, special thanks to my bestie TimeCloneMike for letting me talk at him about what I wanted Chara's natural eye colour to be, because it reminded me to remind her in-story to take her contacts out XD Bonus round: Both she and Frisk now have middle names too. Woohoo!


	67. The Queen.

Toriel opens the door to the darkened bedroom almost an hour later. Chara is sound asleep on her stomach on top of the blankets, with Asriel snuggled between two cushions near her drooling face. You’re still here, she’s surprised to find, sitting on a chair next to her daughter’s vanity fast asleep as you breathe softly. You shiver slightly from the draft as you have only your clothes to warm you.

She scowls at the scene, turning on her heel in a huff. The latch clicks back into place as she closes the door and stomps down the hallway. In spite of the noise, no one stirs in the room.

Minutes pass as voices down the hallway grumble at each other.

Heavy footsteps approach the room again. Toriel opens the door, with Sans’ red eye looking just past her shoulder.

The queen softly strides across the room to you, unfolding dark fabric in her hands with a glimmer of something dark in her eyes.

With the blanket tucked at your shoulders to keep you warm, she steps away back over to the door, closing it slowly.

“ **…** **i** **’ll come back to pick her up in the morning,** ” the skeleton softly rasps.

“That is fine,” the regal woman sighs gently.

The rest of the night is quiet save only for Chara’s gentle snores.

* * *

 

A tiny hand bangs loudly against the door.

Your eyes snap open as a blanket falls off of you. What? How did that get there? You look after it tiredly as if trying to solve a puzzle. The sound of fabric shifting alerts you, and you snap your head up to see Chara groaning as she pulls the sheets over her head. The door is open now, with Frisk standing in the doorway. They look adorable in their teddy bear feetie pajamas.

“Morning, morning _____,” they greet.

Rubbing your eyes to clear the sleep away, you look around, relieved. Asriel didn’t wake you, so you guess Chara didn’t need to throw up again in the night. He said something about being on the bed to monitor her breathing, and you wanted to stay to help her if it came to that.

“Go _away_ , Frisk,” the princess groans, tangled in the blankets and pillows of the bed. Azzy has woken up with the jostling of his pillows and has now straightened on his stem, looking down at Chara’s face worriedly.

“Morning, everyone,” you finally say, just before yawning and stretching. Note to self: Don’t sleep on chairs. They don’t agree with your back, you conclude, as you roll your shoulders to try to work out some of the stiffness. “Chara, how’s your head?” you ask.

“Hurts. _Ow_. Can’t you talk a little quieter??” she moans softly.

“Sorry, I guess you still have a headache. I probably should’ve gotten you to drink more than a single glass of water,” you apologize.

“Mom’s making breakfast,” Frisk announces, climbing onto the bed and bouncing it. The princess hisses in annoyance at the movement. In response, the ambassador grins and starts bouncing in place.

“FRISK, _STOOOOP!_ ”

“Alright you two,” you sigh, climbing onto the bed as well. “Frisk, Chara’s not feeling well today. Can you leave her be?” you gently ask.

They fold their arms across their chest with a grump face. “Only because she got _drunk_ last night,” they huff.

“Ugh.” Chara finally sits up, holding her head in agony. “Hey, actually, why didn’t you do something to stop me from going out last night?” she finally asks, struggling to open one eye in Frisk’s direction.

“You told me not to interfere with your fun,” they grin mischievously, shrugging. “Maybe this time I just decided to listen to you.”

“You are the _worrrst_.”

“Well that’s what you get for disobeying mom in the _first_ place!” they huff, throwing their arms out dramatically.

Oh geez. So Frisk knew all about Chara going out last night, and didn’t do anything to stop her because she knew the hangover would be punishment enough.

“Come on, get up already!” Frisk continues, pushing their hands into the mattress to jostle the princess. “I want breakfast!”

“ _Gghk_ ,” is all Chara can manage.

“Um…” Azzy finally pipes up. “I’m-I’m gunna go see what mom’s doing,” he says anxiously.

“Actually, hang on Azzy,” you stop him. “Can we talk about some stuff?”

He pauses his movement to sink into the mattress and disappear, eyeing you curiously.

“What’s this about?” Chara moans.

“You said something about ‘if you hadn’t died you’d be older’,” you remind her.

Asriel’s small brown eyes widen, glancing up at Chara accusingly.

“Oh…” her blue eyes widen. “Oh, _shit_.”

“Language!” Frisk scolds.

* * *

“So let me get this straight: You had an _extra soul?_ ”

Frisk is just about finished the drawing they’ve made. Six coloured hearts are floating around a small goat child – Asriel, as has just been explained to you – and there’s a seventh one in the middle that they’ve coloured in with black.

“Right,” they nod. “After Flowey took the souls, turned back into Asriel, and broke the Barrier to free all the monsters, we realized that he actually already _had_ seven souls. The last one was human, but not strong enough to help with the Barrier, which is why he still needed my help. With one soul left over, we realized together that maybe we could make a miracle happen.”

The ambassador looks over at Asriel and frowns, the flower ducking away from their gaze. “Um… F-Frisk wanted to save me, give me back my body, but, um… I-I decided that I’d rather have Chara back,” he explains. “I wanted my sister.”

Chara turns the corner from her bathroom, popping Advil into her mouth and gulping down more water from a glass. She stops to take a breath, looking at you and smirking. “And there you have it. I was resurrected from the dead thanks to a miracle, and a soul no one remembered we even had on hand.”

Asriel looks up at her and smiles. She sits down on the bed next to him, gently stroking his petals with her palm. The bond those two share seems to be unbreakable.

“Okay,” you hum. “This is a lot to parse, but I think I get everything up until that last point. So, the six brightly-coloured souls were the other six children that fell, that Asgore killed. What about number seven? Where did that one come from?”

Chara and Azzy look at each other apprehensively, then they each throw you a sheepish grin. “Let’s save that story for another time, okay?”

Frisk shuffles back to their feet and darts over to the door. “Is it breakfast time now? We shouldn’t keep mom waiting,” they pause to say, just before disappearing through it.

“Oh, right,” Chara sighs. “Time to face the music, I guess.”

Asriel climbs onto Chara’s shoulder and hangs on by his roots, his floral face tucked in by her neck before they head downstairs together. You follow them down, idly checking your phone. Undyne’s texted to ask how it went, and you start working out your reply.

You’re downstairs before you know it, looking out at a massive kitchen. There is a long table in front of you, neatly set with plates and utensils in front of each of the six chairs surrounding it. It’s got a couple of platters of pancakes, a butter dish, and large bowls of freshly sliced fruits and berries. You spot a jug of authentic maple syrup in the spread and nod your approval. Frisk has already found their spot and is enthusiastically shoveling food onto their plate. Chara moves a lot more hesitantly, regarding the fruit with wide, tired eyes.

Behind the table is a spacious kitchen, where the Queen is standing with her back to you. Instead of the robes you briefly glimpsed last night, she’s dressed more casually today – A pair of black jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt in a gentle peach colour.

The Queen turns from the stove with a plate stacked high with bacon, pausing when her eyes land on you, then she carefully smiles in delight. You instantly get the urge to run away.

“Hi, um, Your Majesty,” you fret, inclining your head in a slight bow. “I’m sorry I crashed here without really checking with you first. I was just worried about Chara,” you explain.

“It is no trouble at all!” she beams, resting the bacon tray on the table and grabbing a towel to wipe her paws with. “Will you be staying for breakfast?” she offers genially.

“Oh _no_ ,” you instantly refuse. “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.” After all, how could you forget how those red and yellow eyes bored threateningly into you when you showed up last night?

“Please, I _insist_ ,” she invites, a glimmer of something dangerous in those eyes. “You will have to wait for Sans anyways, I know how that lazybones enjoys taking his time,” she chuckles.

“I’m sorry, Queen Toriel, I really wouldn’t want to impose.”

She regards you severely for a moment, snorting and throwing the towel aside before circling the table to pull out a chair. Suddenly large paws are on your shoulders, moving you in front of it and pushing down hard to urge you to sit. Frisk looks up and snickers at the bewildered look on your face.

“Now, what would you like to drink?” she asks, her voice suspiciously gentle again.

Clearly this is a woman you can’t say no to… Or _else_.

“… Um?” is all you can manage.

A large skeleton appears out of thin air behind you and takes the chair next to yours. “ **get _____ some milk if you don** **’t mind, your majesty. i** **’ll have the same,** ” he grins, sliding the plate of pancakes closer to himself with a flair of red magic.

“Good morning to you too, Sans,” Toriel sneers at him.

“I thought we’d have breakfast at home today?” you ask your skelebud. Besides, you’re really not too keen on staying here any longer. Queen Toriel _is_ kind of creeping you out.

“ **no chance, _____ - look at all this food. if we clean this up we** **’ll be doing her a favour,** ” he grins, just before shoving a giant bite of pancake in his massive maw. Syrup drips onto the unshielded table, and he wipes at the sticky substance with a finger and sucks on it lewdly, exposing his red glowing tongue.

“Besides, I find this a _unique_ opportunity to get to know a new human friend of my children’s,” the Queen adds.

You look up from Sans’ gross eating habits and notice that the monster Queen has moved to the opposite end of the table, sitting with her chin supported by her paws resting on the table. The corners of her mouth are curled up in an unsettling smile, showing off the tips of those long sharp canines.

Glancing over at Chara, she just shrugs, her mouth already full of bacon. Back to Frisk, they smile and pat your hand reassuringly. Thinking about it, you _do_ trust the kid, and if they think it will be okay, then maybe it will be.

“… Sure,” you say hesitantly. “What would you like to know?”

* * *

 

" **she's the one who sold me those flowers actually.** "

"Oh, really? Half of them were broken, I must admit,” the Queen adds.

"That was _his_ fault," you protest.

" **what? you _lying_ \- no it wasn't. _you_ landed on _me_ , remember?**"

"Only because _you_ pulled me down?"

" **well I wouldn've if you hadn't shoved me."**

"You _shoved_ him?" The Queen seems surprised.

You shrug. "He was insistent on being in my way." Sans chuckles at that.

"How bold of you! And that is how you met?"

"No, that was the second time,” you clarify. “The first time I crashed into him and accidentally threatened to dust him."

" **that was kinda funny actually,** " he hacks a laugh.

"I'm sorry about that, in retrospect,” you apologize. “That _was_ a bit cruel."

" ** _pfft_. i was _actually_ hoping you'd try it, but i guess it's comforting to know that you're about as soft as ya look.** "

He grips the skin of your cheek, gently squeezing it to make his point. You flail away and he recoils as you playfully swat the air next to him. He grins as he waggles his brow bones, silently gloating that he got to touch your face.

“What ever happened to humans being ‘gross parasites’, anyways?” you retort.

“ **i can’t help it. you’re a fun parasite.** ”

" _UGH!”_

Rolling your eyes, you push on the massive skeleton’s shoulder as he giggles at your frustrated expression. How you became friends was an interesting first question, but it had helped to break the ice to banter with Sans once again.

You’re almost starting to feel comfortable being stared at by the Queen. Almost.

She giggles mirthfully across the long table. “So full of spark and fire, just as a Determined soul should be,” she comments giddily. Then she frowns. “… I was speaking with Sans last night, and he mentioned offhand that you have been working on developing your magic ability. Is that true?” she asks, a note of caution and danger in her eyes.

Chara leaps out of her chair and slams her hands against the table, startling Asriel on her shoulder. “YOU'RE LEARNING  _MAGIC!?_ ” she shouts. Then, her hangover headache kicks in, and she holds her head in pain, mumbling ‘Ow’ as she slowly sits back down. “Frisk, why didn’t you _tell meee_?” the princess moans.

Frisk just shrugs at their surly sister, a big grin across their face. Chara sends back a scowl. You blink at the interaction between the two siblings.

It might be safest to just answer Tori’s question. “… Um, I went to lab once, and he scanned my soul or something. Then he suggested we try a meditation to get me familiar with my magic. That’s as far as we’ve gotten so far,” you shrug, feeling nervous again. How is the Queen going to respond to another human mage?

“And, how did you feel after the scan?” she asks seriously.

“… Normal?” you blink, confused by the question. Was it _supposed_ to feel like anything?

“I see,” she says, smiling faintly. “Have you made any progress with your magic?”

“Just feeling it, I don’t know what I can _do_ yet,” you answer honestly.

“ _Wait_ ,” Chara pipes up again. “Is _that_ why you can resist mine?”

Toriel’s eyes widen, straightening her posture and glancing between the princess and you. Her body arches forward as she reaches a paw behind her, scrambling for something. She withdraws a notepad and her wallet in one go, a small pen attached to the top of the notepad. “Are you interested in babysitting?” she asks randomly, licking a pad and tearing away a sheet of paper.

“What?”

Chara hisses. “ _Moooom!_ ”

“I need someone for Saturday,” she continues absently, writing her number down and passing it to Frisk, who transfers it to you with a smile. Looking back up at the Queen, it’s like she has stars in her eyes having discovered the gold mine of babysitters. “Can you do it? It pays twenty-five dollars an hour.”

“What?!”

Sans chuckles, nudging your arm. “ **she** **’ll do it, tori. she doesn** **’t have a job right now and our place is available.** ”

“I am pleased to hear it,” the Queen beams. “I have a flight that afternoon. It _may_ go overnight…” she adds.

“ **that** **’s fine. we can set the kids up on the couch.** ”

“… _WHAT??!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahah. Toriel likes you, she's just really kind of intimidating. Also I love these kids, they antagonize each other so well.
> 
> Next chapter we're going to start working on breaking Gaster's black heart >:P But of course, since he's trying to woo you, it's also going to be a little fluffy.


	68. The Recharge.

“ **Good morning, _____.** ”

You glance up at Gaster from your textbook open across your lap. “Oh, morning Gaster,” you greet in kind.

The scientist frowns. “ **You do not seem to be your usual spirited self, my dear,** ” he observes. “ **Is something the matter?** ”

“I had a fight with Sans on the way home this morning,” you grumble at your book.

A fight with his son? Hmm. He _may_ be able to leverage this.

The tall skeleton moves to seat himself on the green couch next to you, stretching an arm along the back of it behind your shoulders. You curl forward briefly, aware of his arm’s presence behind you, but resume your relaxed posture once he stills.

“ **I am sincerely sorry to hear that,** ” he says sympathetically. “ **What trouble has my son caused for you today?** ”

“He got me a job against my will,” you groan.

“ **I see,** ” he hums. “ **Is the job undesirable to you?** ”

“No, not really,” you sigh.

“ **Does it pay fairly?** ” he inquires.

You look up and bite your lip, pondering your response. “More than fair, actually,” you answer.

His bony brows furrow quizzically. “ **Is it difficult for you to get there? You know that I am more than willing to escort you if need be.** ”

“It’s actually pretty close to home,” you chuckle. “So don’t worry about that.”

“ **…** **Is the employer some reprehensible sort?** ” he suggests.

“I’ve only just met her, so I can’t really say. She seems nice under that rough exterior, I _guess_ ,” you shrug, cracking a smile.

Even _more_ perplexing. Was there even an issue with the work his son had acquired for you in the first place? He’s failed to hit every possible point of contention that he’s put forward.

“Okay, I know _that_ look,” you sigh, slamming your book closed and gripping it on your lap. “’What’s your problem then’, right? Look, there’s _nothing_ wrong with the job itself. The issue is with the fact that he didn’t really _ask_ me if I’d be interested, or even really let me in on the decision. I mean, _sure_ , I may not have said no to it in the first place, but I have a problem with not really being given the opportunity to turn it down. He _knows_ I _hate_ that shit, and he did it _anyway_ ,” you vent.

“ **Aha,** ” the scientist understands. The source of your frustration was _only_ that you’d been robbed of the choice. Sometimes he forgets the stubbornness of a Determined soul.

Experimentally, he raises a hand and touches your hair, watching with intent as he gauges your reaction. You cast him a scrutinizing look, but you don’t pull away, deciding to test him back and see what he will attempt. He can’t hide a smirk at that, gently stroking his distals through your soft, _luxurious_ locks, in a gesture he hopes is consoling, while also shamelessly indulging in his newest curiosity. He is pleasantly surprised when you don’t pull away.

“ **I am sure that my son intended no harm,** ” he hums, satisfied with your unspoken permission to soothe you in this manner. Your eyelids dip, almost closed in response to his ministrations. “ **He may only be concerned for your lack of employment and resources for yourself. Perhaps he merely wanted to support you and aid you in regaining your financial independence?** ” he suggests.

Your eyes jerk open, staring straight ahead. “… I guess I didn’t think of it like that,” you admit. “I just wish he hadn’t done it in such an insulting way, though,” you sigh with a soft pout of your lower lip.

“ **I should think that it comes from a place where he desires only the best for you,** ” he finds himself saying. “ **I could not fault him for that, even if I tried. I, too, wish to see your life become a bit less frustrating,** ” he promises.

You glance over at him briefly, smiling warmly at him, then resume leaning back into his phalanges. “ _Okay_ , I _guess_ I’ll forgive him,” you relent, feigning exasperation as you huff and throw your arms out at your sides. He bites back a laugh, humming his mirth behind tightly pressed lips. “You know, I really don’t get why people say to be careful around you. What’s the problem? You’re so nice to me, _way_ more than the majority of people I’ve ever known in my _life_.”

He frowns at that, shifting from petting your gorgeous hair to gently massaging your scalp. “ **What has been said about me?** ” he asks. He could guess, but he would rather assuage your concerns directly.

“That you’re dangerous,” you say with a flat expression, suddenly pulling forward away from him, and he frowns at the loss. “That you’ve hurt, um… _Killed_ , a _lot_ of people. Humans _and_ monsters. That you’re strong, powerful, that _every_ monster is _terrified_ of you, and that I shouldn’t trust you no matter what.”

He regards your worried look carefully, trying to find the words to reassure you. “ **…** **I am aware of the reputation I held while we were trapped Underground,** ” he begins tenderly. “ **It was a bitter and _hateful_ existence, exasperated by a hostile society fueled by a brutal dogma ****– Kill, or _be_ killed. It is a wonder we ever made it out from under that mountain at all. _But_ ,**” he emphasizes, slowly reaching with his hand to your face as he softens his expression. Your eyes dart to his hand and he freezes his motion, silently waiting for your permission. You give him no indication either way, so he resumes his original intent of caressing your cheek. “ **I would _never_ harm you, or allow harm to befall you. You have my _sincerest_ assurances of that, my dear,** ” he asserts.

After all, you _are_ _far_ too valuable to him.

The gesture being slightly more intimate than you’re comfortable with, you take his hand from your face, resting it atop the hardcover textbook on your lap as you grip his long ivory fingers in yours. “Thanks Gaster,” you smile, patting the broken palm of his hand in some sort of comforting gesture. “I’m still not sure what to think about you yet, but, I guess you weren’t the _only_ monster down there that’s, um, _killed_ before,” you venture, wincing at the subject and gripping his bones anxiously.

He’s the monster who has killed the _most_ , but he doesn’t see any benefit to correcting you. Instead, he takes on a solemn expression as he nods slowly. “ **That _was_ the way of things, yes.** ”

“And… I know I shouldn’t ignore that people can _change_ , right?” you continue brightly.

He rumbles with a laugh, finding your hopeful optimism quite refreshing. _Na_ _ïve_ , perhaps, but refreshing nonetheless. “ **Of course,** ” he agrees.

“I think being on the surface has probably mellowed you guys out a lot, too,” you add. “And, okay. I’m not sure I should trust you yet, but I should _try_ , right? I mean, I’m temporarily living in your apartment, in your space. It just doesn’t make sense to be watching my back all the time, you know? Not when we’re so close together.”

An embarrassed redness lights up your face. He raises a brow ridge in a silent question.

“I _meant_ ,” you gasp, dropping his hand and jerking away from him. “When we’re so _physically_ close- _Gah_ , no wait, that’s even _worse_.” You run your hands down your face as you try to conquer this flustered moment. “We live, in the _same place_ , but we’re not, _ugh_ , _romantic_ or anything,” you struggle, and suddenly he grasps the reason for your frustration, grinning broadly. “Sorry. _Wow_ , I’m awkward. _That_ was, honestly, _pretty_ stupid.”

He’d grumble at your rejection if he weren’t already thoroughly amused that your thoughts had even ventured in that direction. He seizes his hand in yours again, feeling you startle slightly as he brings it to his mouth.

“ **Do not apologize for _that_ , my dear,**” he hums pleasantly, pressing a kiss against your knuckles before massaging it into your skin with his ivory thumb.

Your brows grind together at the gesture, then you hold up your available hand eyeing your bare wrist. “Oh hey, look at my wrist! I’d better get to class.”

“ **Do you require an escort?** ”

“I think Sans will be home soon,” you deflect, standing from the couch and rushing past him, book clasped tightly against your chest. You go over to your book bag lying about on the ottoman, checking that you have all of your materials before resting your book inside.

The royal scientist stands from the couch right after you. “ **My dear, I would be _delighted_ to walk you.** ”

You pause your hurry for just a moment, eyes rapidly moving as you stare off into space, trying to find some alternative to his offer. He takes a few long strides to the front door, withdrawing his long black jacket and shoes, intending to deny any further rejection.

“Gaster… I really don’t need an escort,” you complain as he slides his long feet into his shoes.

“ **I would argue that you _do_ , _____,**” he says firmly, gripping your shoulders with his long skeletal hands. “ **You have already been subject to far too much trauma since you came into our lives, and I would _never_ be able to forgive myself if something happened to you away from our watch.** ”

Shuffling your feet and looking extremely uncomfortable, you heave a heavy sigh.

And then he notices your soul.

“I just… You’re working from home right now, right? I don’t want to interrupt you by tearing you away,” you argue, looking back up at him with a guilty expression. “I can make it fine on my own. It’s a five minute walk, and then a bus for four stops. That’s _it_. It’s twenty minutes out, and double that to get back. You _really_ don’t have to.”

How… _Interesting_.

He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, stroking your cheek admiringly, flashing a pleased smile as he regards you like rare treasure. “ **My dear, it is not an inconvenience at all. In fact, I _insist_. I do not want to see you fall to harm, and would _much_ prefer to guarantee your safety _personally_.** ”

“But… If we just wait a sec, then you won’t have to go so far for me.”

“ **I would travel half the globe in a heartbeat to ensure your well-being, my dear.** ”

“Gaster…”

“ **_____,** ” he begins seriously, taking your hand in his. “ **Remember what you said about trust earlier? Perhaps this can be a small exercise towards that noble endeavour.** ”

With his flattery and challenge out in the open, he notices another change.

“Okay,” you snort, gripping his fingers in yours. “Maybe forty minutes of your time isn’t _that_ excessive.”

That red soul had dimmed, over some fleeting guilty thought that you might _dare_ tear him away from his whiteboard a while longer. Not by a large amount, but… Not a _small_ _one_ , either. It was a _visible_ change, one that could be seen easily with the naked eye.

And then, more _importantly_ , you had perked right back up.

This requires some further investigation, he muses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Fellster _knows_.
> 
> First, a poll before we get into this metric ton of notes:
> 
> Next chapter:  
> A) Sans & Gaster conversation, or  
> B) Plot?
> 
> After whichever of the two that's picked, it's going to be two straight chapters of Gaster, and then one where she gets her mind slapped by the royal kids. _THEN SNAS DATING CAN BEGIN!!!_
> 
> Also - Reader is being a little naive here. That happens when you try to find the best in the worst people. Optimism is a hell of a drug.
> 
> Also also, there's a good five hundred words at the end there that wasn't previewed on Patreon, as I just wrote it in within the last ten minutes or so. I was just re-reading the chapter and realized "Hey, he wouldn't just let her go on her own, and why let his son spend time with her when he sucks at flirting? _HE'S_ the best at flirting, therefore _he_ should walk her to school today!" _Logic._
> 
> Also also also - I accidentally created a plot hole with the last chapter, which went around some hullabaloo on my Tumblr. [Here's](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/159906714480/i-just-realized-something-about-underfell) a post and [here's](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/post/159946047520/about-the-chara-knows-readers-soul-is) another, for some cute minor bonus content that's now not canon, because I changed it again. Instead of going back and rewriting the story from the beginning (Because the kids actually spilled the beans earlier than I thought they did), I just changed Chara's outburst last chapter slightly. One line. _Much_ easier hole to fill :)
> 
> Also also ALSO _ALSO_ : This story is not only _very_ close to 2500 kudos, but is actually the fourteenth result down if you search for Sans x Reader fics and sort by highest kudos. That means I'm in fourteenth place! Very cool minor news that I'm very proud of. I have an event in mind but nowhere in my schedule I can fit it right now in order to celebrate, so it might be best to bookmark my [Tumblr](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/) for when I actually do make the announcement. Dig into my recent posts, I explain where it is in one I have tagged with #pizza XD


	69. The Problem.

Sans grunts as he finally gets home, sloughing off his coat and hanging it up in the closet as he kicks off his slippers by the door.

“ **_____,** ” he calls as he just starts to turn into the apartment. “ **you ready for class yet, sweetheart?** ”

He stops in his tracks as he glances towards the livingroom. Gaster.

… So _that_ _’s_ why he had so much work waiting on his desk this morning.

“ **where** **’s _____, what have you done with her?** ” he accuses grumpily.

“ **I merely escorted her to her school. She was eager to arrive for class _early_ for once,** ” the taller skeleton answers, rising slowly from his place on the couch with a smirk. “ **Are you _insinuating_ something?** ” he challenges.

Sans flicks the sweat accumulating on his skull with a hand as he tries to gather up his determination. “ **so she** **’s in class, huh? alright then,** ” he concedes.

The two stare at each other intensely for half a minute, before Sans backs down by heading into his room to change. If Gaster’s hogging the couch to himself then maybe he’ll crash on his bed. … He should probably change the sheets before he does, though, _and_ afterwards. With the royal scientist prowling around at home today he knows his nap will be a sweaty and restless one.

“ **When were you going to tell me about her _soul?_** ”

It would be just his luck that his father’s decided to hound him first. He sighs as he reluctantly turns to face him, Gaster having followed to loom over him every step of the way.

“ **you already know it** **’s bright red, what else is there to tell?** ” he chuckles. What is his problem today?

“ **I am not speaking of the _obvious_ visual qualities it possesses,** ” he frowns, brow bones coming together in irritation. “ **I am referring to the fact that it dims and brightens in far _greater_ amounts than it _should_.** ”

All of the magic in his body runs and hides into the depths of his soul, and if a skeleton could _be_ any paler, he knows he would be. _When the hell did_ Gaster _find out!?_

“ **don** **’t know what you** **’re talkin** **’ about, boss,** ” he deflects.

“ **I do _hate_ it when you play _dumb_ , Sans. _Obviously_ you must have _known_ ,**” he growls angrily.

Well, clearly denial isn’t going to get him anywhere today. Not that it ever does.

“ **i might** **’ve seen something i couldn** **’t explain once or twice,** ” he grumbles. “ **don** **’t know what to make of it yet.** ”

“ ** _Well_ , this quick depletion and regeneration of Determination makes her all the more valuable to us,**” the towering skeleton sneers. “ **You should have told me so that I might investigate this sooner.** ”

“ **…** **now you know,** ” he scoffs. “ **so what are you goin** **’ to _do_ about it?** ”

“ **I will escort her from her class when she finishes later this afternoon, of course, and see whether I might persuade her to join me at the lab under the pretense of furthering her training as a mage.** ”

“ **and what makes you think she** **’ll go for it?** ” he smirks.

“ **She has demonstrated interest in her magic, and there seem to be multiple humans insistent on causing her grief,** ” he explains. “ **That, _and_ the proper allocation of charm and persuasion should be enough,** ” he finishes with a very smug self-satisfied grin.

Sans’ composure breaks and he snickers at that. Gaster’s smile turns sour, sockets narrowing dangerously down at his eldest son. “ ** _What_ do you find so _hilarious now, Sans?_** ” he seethes.

The thickly-set skeleton giggles through it, wiping a luminescent red tear from one of his eye sockets as he chances a look back up. “ **charm and persuasion** **… yeah, _right_. you realize she** **’s only humouring you** **‘cause she already knows you** **’re a manipulative _asshole_ , right?**”

“ **I _beg_ your _pardon?_** ”

“ **you must** **’ve figured out that she was the one to dunk on grillby by now.** ”

Gaster frowns. “ **I had gathered as much from her return home the other night.** ”

“ **yeah, so she knows what that fake** **‘suave** **’ bullshit looks like. _listen_ , boss ****– she** **’s just playing nice** **‘cause she knows you** **’re dangerous, and that she can** **’t exactly get away from you since you** **’re at the place she** **’s stuck living in for the time being. she ain** **’t interested, i can basically guarantee it.** ”

Sans is, admittedly, quite surprised when his skull isn’t immediately caved in for his boldness. He waits in anxious anticipation as the scientist before him straightens, bringing a hand to the point of his lower jaw and tapping the end of one of his phalanges against it. The small white lights in the blackness of his sockets stare off into space somewhere above his son’s head. His expression is angry, but pensive.

“ **If that is truly the case, then perhaps a _new_ strategy is required,** ” he hums thoughtfully. “ **Because, _after all_ , if she is not romantically interested in _either_ of us then we have a _problem_.** ”

… He wouldn’t _kill_ you, would he? No, that wouldn’t make sense if he’s only just found out about your quick regeneration of DT. Visions of you trapped in the DT extractor room flood his mind, and he shudders uncomfortably at the thought. His dad treating you like a resource would _actually_ be _worse_.

“ **listen, gaster,** ” he attempts, trying to shake off the nervous energy running through him. The slender skeleton seems to come out of his trance, if only to look down on his son. “ **so she** **’s not interested in your mind games, and she** **’s stuck me in the friendzone. the whole hybrid thing** **… it ain** **’t a lost cause just yet, i figure.** ”

“ **And _how_ do you suppose _that_ is?** ” he grumbles unhappily.

“ **i know patience isn** **’t on your spectrum anywhere, but listen** **– i think she** **’s definitely more interested in gettin** **’ to know a guy before dating them, rather than jus** **’ dating them right away. she needs _trust_.** ”

“ **If she trusts _you,_ then _what_ is the hold up?** ”

The fact that you just got betrayed by a guy you liked? The fact that you’ve obviously had some bad boyfriends in the past treat you like garbage? Maybe you still have some hang-up about dating monsters in particular? There could be any number of reasons for it, but he wasn’t about to harass you about it any time soon.

“ **could be any number of things.** ”

“ **Name one,** ” he demands.

Sans shuffles from one foot to the next. “ **she just dumped a guy three days ago, give her a break. it** **’s gunna be a while before _____ will even consider tryin** **’ again.** ”

“ **How long do you suppose that will take?** ”

He shrugs. “ **hell if i know. what she needs is support and compassion after her breakup. give it time boss, she** **’ll come around.** ”

Gaster hums in thought. His white eye lights flicker curiously down at his son, then he grins behind his hand, and turns to enter his room without uttering another word. Sans watches his back as he departs, ivory brow furrowing in confusion.

Well, shit. What the hell did he say _now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster's not done with you yet. Sorry for the weird ending, Fellster actually had a really good point and it was hard to figure out how Sans should try and talk him out of it.
> 
>  **Will you go to the lab with him?:**  
>  A: Yeah what's the worst that could happen?  
> B: No thanks I'd rather not.
> 
> Also I have a _lot_ of ideas for the next chapter, so which should I do? (Last poll was close enough to even that I'm going to do both):  
>  A: The spa  
> B: The dinner  
> C: Both


	70. The Spa.

“I said _no_ , Gaster.”

Of course, if he walked you to school today then he’ll try and pick you up from it as well. You wish Sans was here instead, and sign resignedly at the long skeletal hands holding yours.

“ **We will not be able to advance your training without visiting my lab,** ” he attempts.

But you’re not having it today. You shake your head and drop his hands. “No means _no_. I already gave you my answer.”

“ **But** **… My dear. Have you decided against continuing your training?** ”

“That’s not what I said, Gaster,” you sigh, irritated. “I’m just not interested in training today. End of story.” Why is he so insistent on going there anyways? You just don’t trust him enough to be alone with him right now, _least_ of all when it means hanging out at his spooky lab.

“ **Then, may I ask why?** ”

 _Now_ you’re angry. You grab his hand and yank his arm down, pointing the index finger of your other hand in his face accusingly. His sockets widen in surprise at the aggression, but he lets you pull on him without a fight. “ _LISTEN,_ Gaster – You remember my rant from earlier about the whole trust thing?”

His sockets close with their odd bony eyelids in a blink, but then he nods wordlessly, seemingly disarmed.

“In order to gain my trust, you’ve got to show me some respect first,” you continue scolding. “And in order to _do_ that, when I say no, it _means no_. No trying to change my mind, no asking me why not. _Respect_ the _no_ , and just leave it at that.”

He hums pensively for a moment, then he straightens and chuckles. “ **Very well,** ” he smiles. “ **I concede the point and will not trouble you further.** ”

You relax, returning the warm smile he’s giving you. “Thank you, Gaster.”

“ **But,** ” he begins, crooking his cracked brow, and you throw your hands up and groan. “ **Instead of the lab, I _do_ have another activity in mind for tonight, if you are willing.** ”

“And what’s that?”

He slides his slender fingers into a pocket, withdrawing a pamphlet that’s folded in half. He offers it to you and you unfold it to read the front.

“… A day spa?”

He nods. “ **It occurs to me that you have not been pampered _properly_ in a long while, especially so since you and Grillby parted ways. I _also_ considered that it might be a good opportunity for us to bond?** ”

Gaster wants to go with you? To a _spa?_ … How would _that_ work?

But, it’s a nice gesture, and you think it might be more appropriate than heading off to his creepy lab alone with him again. Sans might not panic so much if he knows you’re somewhere that’s public, too, while still letting you chat with Gaster one on one. The idea that it might be more intimate than you bargained for crosses your mind, and spas generally aren’t your thing in the first place. But, it _might_ be worth it for a massage…

 _And_ , you realize, you wouldn’t miss _Gaster_ going to the spa for the _world_.

You grin. “… Okay. Let’s go to the spa.”

Sitting nearby at one of the student lobby computers, Derrick starts taking some notes.

* * *

He paid for everything, of course. You promised to pay back half at _least_ once you get paid for babysitting tomorrow, but he waved his hand dismissively with a smile on his face. It was over five hundred dollars _before_ taxes and extras… Maybe you’ll just let the lanky dork have this one. He bought the couples package too, which you turned your nose up at, but at least that meant you’d be kept together for all of the services. You can’t forget his recent flirting with you as of this morning no less, and know that there must be _something_ behind this insistence to dominate all of your free time.

You couldn’t stop laughing during the massage, though. Gaster didn’t fit on the table next to you, his legs jutting straight out with his kneecaps and everything below completely airborne. His masseuse had the most uncomfortable look on her face, too. Not in a ‘why do I have to massage a monster’ kind of way, more like a ‘what do I actually do with bone’, which you can appreciate. She awkwardly rubbed at his shoulder blades for a minute, surprised that they were actually pliable and had some give, which was news to you too, actually. His ribs seemed off-limits though, as he squirmed when she tried. Your giggling was interfering with your own massage though, and the masseuse had to poke you a couple of times and remind you to relax.

After the mani-pedi, which Gaster skipped for lack of any nails, they brought you both to a cleansing mineral water bath to share. It’s basically a large square hot tub with two shaped seats right next to one another. You’re glad you insisted on going home first for so you could wear your two piece bathing suit for this whole thing. You’re _also_ glad that he’s politely keeping his distance, given the proximity involved. The attendants had given each of you a face mask and cucumber slices over your eyes before leaving you alone for a few minutes.

“I didn’t think you’d go for the face mask,” you admit, relaxing in the bath.

“ **I could not help but to be curious,** ” he admits thoughtfully.

“How is it?”

“ **There is a new tingling sensation in my skull. It is** **… Rather pleasant,** ” he hums delightedly. “ **And how is yours?** ”

“It smells like chocolate and strawberry oatmeal,” you sigh. “It’s taking everything I have to not lick it off of my face.”

He chuckles. “ **Mine is some form of mint.** ”

You hum in delight as you get comfortable in the warm bath. A cozy silence falls between you, and you start running your fingers along the water, just feeling the warmth and wetness with your fingertips as you blindly stroke and play with the surface tension.

“Hey, Gaster,” you begin. “Thanks for doing this. This is actually really wonderful.”

“ **I am delighted to hear it, my dear,** ” he says, a smile in his voice. “ **I hoped you might appreciate the break.** ”

“Yeah. I haven’t been in years,” you confess.

“ **Forgive me if I am being too invasive, _____, but** **… I have gathered that your relationship with Grillby did not end on a high note.** ”

Oh. _Right_. He wants to know what happened. You let your mouth sink into the water and blow bubbles across the surface.

He sits up at the noise, alarmed. “ **Are you alright?** ”

“Oh,” you mumble, straightening up. “Fine. Just messing with the water.” Did he think you were drowning? Actually, _can_ skeletons drown? You file that question away for later, once you’re not sitting in a bath next to him. He might get the wrong idea.

Gaster settles back down, getting comfortable again.

“ **…** **May I ask what transpired between the two of you?** ” His voice is soft with concern.

You never really explained what happened between you and Grillby to anyone but Sans, after all. But, Gaster and your recent ex, if you could even _call_ him that, are good friends, right? He should _probably_ know what went down the other night.

Besides, he took you to a spa today to treat you, and you _do_ live with him, and he clearly wants to know more about you.

“… I overheard him talking about me,” you start. “He was talking to someone on the phone, something about ‘making me _his_ ’ and some stupid fucking bet.” You tense up in the water. “I really _hate_ it when people treat me like a _thing_ they can _win_ ,” you grumble.

The skeleton scientist makes a ‘tsk’ noise as he gathers his thoughts. “ **How utterly _dreadful_ of him! I sincerely apologize for his behaviour, I had no idea he would do such a thing. That is _not_ a proper way to treat a woman.** ”

“It’s not a proper way to treat _anyone_ ,” you insist grumpily.

“ **But of course,** ” he admits. “ **I will be forced to speak to him on my next visit to his restaurant on you behalf** **… If that is alright with you?** ”

“Hell, if you want to do me a favour, could you lock him in a freezer for a couple minutes for me?” you sneer. “I know he must have one at his bar, and as it turns out, fire _hates_ cold.”

He gasps in surprise. “ **_____, how _aggressive!_** ” he says before bursting out laughing. It’s a loud, very _genuine_ laugh, completely caught off of his usual guard. It’s actually really handsome, it suits him well. Maybe you could get used to that laugh.

 _Not_ that you’re attracted to the royal scientist all of a sudden. That would just be _awkward_.

“ **Ggghkk-!** ” he suddenly chokes.

You sit up and take the vegetables off your eyes in panic. “ _Whoa_ , Gaster. Are you okay?”

The royal scientist has an uncomfortable expression crossing his face. Then, very cautiously, he opens his mouth revealing his red magic tongue… And, a stray cucumber slice. He takes it from his mouth and scowls at it in his fingers.

“ ** _Well_. _That_ was unpleasant.** ” His cheekbones are tinted red from embarrassment.

You burst out laughing. “Oh my _god_. It went _in_ , didn’t it?”

“ **Word of advice** **– A skeleton** **’s eye sockets are _very_ sensitive. We do _not_ enjoy it when objects travel through them,** ” he admits evenly.

“Noted,” you snicker.

* * *

“I’m really glad no one’s bothering us tonight.”

“ **Hmm?** ” he hums thoughtfully, resting his elbows on the table and crossing his hands under his chin.

You scan the restaurant with your eyes, but no one’s staring at you. It’s a dimly lit environment with lots of tall fake tropical plants surrounding the diningroom, with live cut flowers in a vase on each table, over a simple ivory tablecloth. The one between you has chrysanthemums and wax flowers in muted colours, as well as fresh herbs for greenery – Basil, sage, and rosemary, you recognize. It’s an interesting mix of floral and spicy scents, but not an unpleasant one either. You steal another sniff of the curious bundle and sigh as it relaxes you.

A four course dinner was included with the spa package, so you’ve placed your orders and are waiting patiently for the first round. The server had brought a complimentary bottle of red wine for the table and poured each of you a glass. You’re back in your ripped t-shirt and pajama pants and he’s back in his super stuffy black suit and tie. He looks like he belongs here way more than you do, even though he’s a monster and you’re not.

“I thought people would give us trouble. Uh, you know… Since you’re a monster, and all,” you admit sheepishly. “Sorry. I just know people have given me crap for hanging out with monsters publicly several times already. But, _here_ , no one’s even _looking_ at us. It’s a nice change, I guess.”

He smiles, amused by your observation. “ **I did notice that as well. While I am not sure of the reason, I hope the evening continues as pleasantly as this.** ”

“Amen to _that_ ,” you cheer. Then frown. “Do humans give you a lot of trouble? You _specifically_ , I mean.”

He sighs behind his interlaced phalanges. “ **Some establishments have encouraged me against visiting them** **… Quite _rudely_ , I might add. Others seem too intimidated by either my stature or my esteemed position to raise any objection. It can be trying at times, but there is little that I cannot endure.**”

“I’m sorry.”

He grins. “ **I appreciate your concern, my dear.** ”

“It’s just… Man, humans have been garbage to you guys, huh? Trapping you for a thousand years, and then you finally get out, and _this_ is what you get?”

He casually shrugs his narrow shoulders. “ **All things considered, I find I prefer the surface a great deal more than the Underground. It was a dangerous environment for monsters _and_ humans alike.** ”

“… Can you tell me about your life under that mountain? You’ve been around for a thousand years, right?”

Gaster frowns. “ **I am not sure that is an appropriate subject for dinner conversation. It is an unpleasant time to recall.** ”

“I’m sorry Gaster, I had to _try_. No one’s been honest to me when I’ve asked,” you confide in him. “It’s like everyone wants it to be vague and secret or something. I just thought you might be different.”

He straightens at that, a curious gleam in his otherwise dark eye sockets. “ **How did you come to that conclusion?** ”

“Well, you seem like the teacher type,” you explain. “If there’s something I want to learn about monsters you’re the go-to guy for it, right?”

This earns you a smirk. “ **Very well,** ” he nods. “ **Ask me something about Underground, and I will attempt to answer.** ”

“What was it like raising two boys in the Underground?”

Gaster chuckles warmly, smiling as he remembers. “ **It was about as challenging as it seems to be on the surface, I suppose.** ”

“But it was so dangerous down there,” you insist.

“ **As the Royal Scientist, my title and nobility gave my sons some degree of protection. The Royal Guard, for instance, could never lay a hand on either of them, and were to intervene should any other monster make an attempt on their lives. _However_ , my status in society _also_ meant that they were targeted a great deal more.** ”

“Were you ever afraid for them?”

He frowns. “ **Every moment of every single day... It is very fortunate that both Sans** **’ and Papyrus** **’s strength is formidable, and their boss monster abilities were a boon in youth as well,** ” he smirks.

The skeleton seems oddly proud when he says that. On the subject of kids, though…

“If you could’ve saved those human kids, the ones Asgore killed… Would you have?”

He grimaces against his interlaced hands in front of him, then brings them down to rest against the surface of the table. “ **I spent nearly a _thousand years_ searching for some other way to break the barrier and release us. If I had found a way to do so that did not involve the souls of humans, we would not be having this conversation, and my King would not be imprisoned.** ”

He’s really tense all of a sudden. “I guess you took your work very personally.”

The skeleton nods. “ **It is difficult to think of our release as anything but a failure on my part. I understand that I should be _grateful_ to Frisk for the considerable miracles they managed in a single day** **… But I cannot help but think of the _centuries_ I _squandered_ looking for an alternative solution.** ”

“And if you had found it, those six human kids wouldn’t have died.”

“ **If I had found it, _no one_ would have died.**”

He’s gritting his teeth angrily, grasping his napkin of utensils tightly in one of his long-fingered hands. His face falls and he looks at what he’s doing, before resting it back down on the table and unfurling it. He’s completely flustered and disarmed. He shifts in his chair and glances away scanning for the server.

“ **My apologies, dear _____. May we change the subject? This was intended to be a _relaxing_ evening.** ”

“Sorry, of course we can. Can I just say something though?”

White eye lights meet yours thoughtfully. “ **Go ahead,** ” he permits.

You smile and reach across the small table for his hand, gripping his hard phalanges in your soft fingers. “It really means a lot to me that you tried,” you tell him. “Thanks for giving it your best shot. I mean that.”

He smiles warmly, massaging your fingers in his. “ **Thank you _____, I appreciate your thoughtfulness on such a troubling subject.** ”

“Hey, what’re friends for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long >.<;; It felt weird and clunky and honestly I previewed it on Patreon ages ago and it just sat and sat :C I put this up on Tumblr last night (I think??) for some final vetting, and so now, this is what I have. Sunfreckle will notice I added a part as per her suggestions :)
> 
> I decided to split the final Gaster date into two chapters, since there's so much to do: People voted for both stay at home and take her somewhere nice, plus last chapter the spa and dinner votes were close, and the both votes still exceeded those. So yeah, that's three things to do with one dude. And if I get this part out now, you don't have to wait _even longer_ for the rest of it. Next chapter they're gunna be at home.
> 
>  **Warning for next chapter:** You're drunk, and yeah he's going to try to take advantage of that. But don't worry your edgy angel will save you. And if you decide you're uncomfortable with that, that's okay: There will be context provided in the body of the chapter following that one.


	71. The Wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #  **BIG HUGE TRIGGER WARNING!!!**
> 
> I previewed this to patrons and one of them said that this chapter was very triggering for them, and rightly so. It was very hard for me to write in the first place. There is **dub-con** in this, in the sense that he dubiously gains your consent, but **it stops right there**. You nope out and hide in the bathroom. Nothing else happens, _I promise you._
> 
> I also rearranged the parts a little bit so that instead of cutting at a really bad time we get the start of the next chapter with Sans, so that you can see for yourself that _nothing_ happens and that he swoops in to help you out right away. But even with that in place, I wanted to warn for and clarify the trigger element contained here.
> 
> With that said, **if this is too much for you, you can skip ahead to the next chapter.** It will actually be up fairly soon as it's almost done, I'm just doing my final run of editing.
> 
> If you choose to read it anyway, don't say I didn't warn you.

Oh my _god_ , Grillby wasn’t kidding about his alcohol tolerance!

Conversation came easily once you both started getting into the wine, and for some stupid fucking reason – maybe because you wanted to prove something? You kind of lost the point back at the restaurant somewhere – you decided to try and match the royal scientist drink for drink. He is _literally_ BONES where the _CRAP_ does he _PUT IT?!_

In short, you’re so _blitzed_ that Gaster literally had to carry you home. At some point he even picked you up bridal style, and you smacked his sternum approvingly while commending him on his _ridiculous_ strength.

“What were we talking about again?” you slur blearily as he sets you down gently on the familiar green couch. Instantly you stretch out and get comfortable. This is the most excellent piece of furniture you’ve _ever_ sat on. It’s like a cloud!

“ **You were regaling me with the failings of one of your previous romantic interests,** ” he chuckles, disappearing through the kitchen doorway.

Oh, right! He wanted to know about previous relationships and stuff. And what exactly you were looking for in a partner, too – How did the conversation turn to bitching about your ex, though?

Eh, it doesn’t really matter. After all, Drew’s failings are GREAT material.

The tall skeleton ducks back through the open doorway, another bottle of wine and two glasses clutched in his phalanges. _More_ wine? You’ve _probably_ had enough already. _Maybe_. Gaster’s not even _buzzed_ though, it’s not _fair!_

“ **Do go on,** ” he chuckles, taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

The wine reminds you of another story. “Okay so, this one time? It was my birthday, and I had a _really_ good job for once and there is this GREAT steakhouse at another end of town. So I totally wanted to go, and I figured ‘hey, I’ll treat my boyfriend too’! Great plan, right?”

“ **Very generous of you, indeed.** ”

You groan and sit back into the soft cushions. “This motherfucker just _sat_ there whining that I wouldn’t let him have alcohol, and when he didn’t get his way, he brought out a fucking novel to read across the table from me! I mean, _SERIOUSLY!?_ ”

“ **How utterly _distasteful_ ,**” he observes, humour lacing his cultured voice. “ **I hope the novel was worth it.** ”

“It was something by Tom Clancy – fictional military stuff I think. I don’t really know. Not something to snub your _awesome_ girlfriend over, _right?_ ”

“ **Absolutely _not_ ,**” he chuckles.

“It was my birthday,” you grumble.

You watch, enthralled, as he grips the cork in the bottle and effortlessly twists it out with his slender phalanges, like he’s casually twisting the cap off a beer. Isn’t that supposed to be really hard to do?

He pours a glass and offers it to you. “ **Would you care for another drink?** ”

“Um… Sorry,” you refuse, holding your hand flat out to stop the wine glass from even reaching you. “I’ve had… _Way_ too much tonight already.”

“ **You would have me drink _alone?_** ” he teases. “ **But that would cause you to fall behind.** ”

Oh, right. The drink for drink challenge… _Thing_. “I said no, Gaster,” you remind him. “You gotta _respect_ the _no_.”

He frowns, but nods understandingly. “ **Very well,** ” he concedes, and sips the glass himself. You swear at him in your head for not even being the _least_ bit phased. Was it _two_ bottles at dinner? Or _three?_

“ **Tell me more about this bumbling _idiot_ of a man you once were partnered with,** ” he prompts, smirking. Oh, he’s enjoying your stories!

“Okay, okay, here’s a good one,” you snicker. “Uhh, this one time? He showed up at my work and demanded I go home with him that night, because he didn’t want me walking home that late or something.”

Gaster seems concerned. “ **Would doing so have been dangerous?** ”

“No!! It was just because it was RAINING!” you snort a laugh. “It wasn’t even _bad_ – It was barely _mist_ by the time I got off work!”

“ **I am not sure I understand his reasoning,** ” he hums.

“With him there _was_ no reasoning. He just wanted me over there so he could try to pressure me to fuck him again,” you grumble.

“ **…** **He tried to take _advantage_ of you?** ”

Gaster looks _furious_. It’s kinda sweet. You pat his wine hand reassuringly with a smile. “ _Tried_ , maybe. But he was _terrible_ at trying to manipulate me. And I never slept with him once, and I broke up with him with us both still being virgins. That’s probably why the asshole’s so pent up, now that I think about it.”

“ **I am relieved to hear that,** ” he sighs.

“He’s an asshole, but he never crossed that line. I made _sure_ of it. No, there were other problems with going over to his place late at night – He lives _way_ _out_ in the _country_ , like an _hour_ by car, and I don’t drive, and his parents are worse than _mine_ for getting me places I needed to be at on time. If I’d gone that night, I probably would’ve been three hours late for work the next day. At _least_. And I started in the _afternoon_ at that job.”

“ **That _does_ sound terribly inconvenient.** ”

“No kidding! Right?!”

“ **I am beyond _belief_ at the moment. How could this _Drew_ be so inconsiderate of your person and your responsibilities?** ”

“Oh, you think _that_ _’s_ bad? It gets _way_ _worse_.”

He smirks delightedly. Maybe the wine’s finally affecting him. Success! “ ** _Do tell_ ,**” he goads you on.

“He staked the _relationship_ on it,” you giggle. “He was like ‘If you don’t come with me tonight then we’re broken up’ or something,” you imitate a fake asshole Drew voice for effect. “So I was just like ‘Okay, _bye!_ ’ and went back into the back of the restaurant. He was _shocked!_ ” you say with a mocking gasp.

You hiss a laugh because Gaster’s _FACE_ , oh my _god_. It takes him a moment to process the icing on the cake, but then he bursts out laughing _uproariously_ , unrestrained for the first time in _ages_. He’s bent over double, leaning forward from his seat as he tries to gather himself. It takes you a couple of moments to calm down too, an ache in your chest that can only be the result of laughing so hard.

Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s his laugh, or a combination of things, but you feel pretty hilarious right about now.

The scientist chuckles approvingly at your proud expression and previous antics. “ **My _dear_ , I am so _very proud_ of you. I can only _imagine_ the look of _utter_ _betrayal_ he must have displayed.** ”

“He was pretty pissed at the time,” you agree. “And after that I told him that if he and his friends didn’t leave my restaurant in the next ten minutes that I’d get my manager to call the cops on them for bothering me. They were out in _two_.”

“ **It is good to hear that involvement from the authorities was not required,** ” the royal scientist adds somberly, sipping at his wine.

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“ **Oh, I meant nothing by it,** ” he perks up, surprised. “ **I understand that the police _are_ to be respected, but** **… I suppose _my_ kind are an exception to their motto to serve the community.**”

You pull your legs in to squat on the sofa seat cushion, ready to pounce. “Who did what? I’ll cut them.”

He gapes in amusement. “ **My dear, you will _not._** ”

“Okay, maybe not. But I’m sure I’ll do _something_ stupid to avenge someone anyway,” you drunkenly admit.

“ **Please, sit back,** ” he insists. He tangles a hand in your hair and starts scratching at your scalp soothingly. You melt like butter under his gentle caresses. “ **I appreciate your willingness to aid monsterkind, however at this time it is a futile effort. I am only disappointed in local law enforcement for their unspoken bias against monsters, causing many to fall to dust from unjust imprisonment over the past year and a half.** ”

Your eyes sting as your feel your heart breaking. “I’m so sorry-!”

“ **Hush, my dear,** ” he soothes. “ **Allow me assure you that all that can be done is already being handled by our esteemed Queen of All Monsters. And, if there was more that I could do _personally_ , I would not hesitate to protect my people.**”

“I’m- I’m _sor_ -“

“ **Why you are crying?** ”

He’s set down his wine on the end table and brought his hand up to your face, stroking at your cheek to clear away the wet from the tears. His other hand still massages and pets the hair at the back of your head and neck. It’s very comforting.

“ **…** **Come here,** ” he beckons.

Before you can react he scoops you up in his slender arms and positions you to sit between his legs, your own pair draped over one of his narrow femurs. His arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. You’re about to complain at the unexpected closeness when his hard fingers find their way into your hair again.

“ **My dear, you must know that none of this is your fault,** ” he softly coos next to your ear. His breath is warm and fragrant with wine. “ **It may be an unfortunate situation for us, but it has nothing to do with you.** ”

“Is… Is there anything I can do to help?” you blurt out. Your heart’s dropped down into your stomach it feels like, and it’s the only thing you can think of to say.

“ **Well** **…** ” he hums pleasantly. “ **This is somewhat _unrelated_ , but** **… I _have_ been looking for a human to examine,** ” he tells you.

Examine? … Like a test or something? “Do you mean at the lab?”

Between his phalanges are still scratching your scalp and how he’s pressed you against his warm body, and the alcohol, you’re starting to feel relaxed and sleepy. “ **Another visit to the lab would be unnecessary for what I have in mind. I am just** **… I have been thinking about human anatomy recently,** ” he explains soothingly. “ **Your kind is very different from monsters, I am sure you are aware. And, while I have gained a significant amount of understanding from reading anatomy texts, I am _still_ a scientist, and I prefer to do my own research.** ”

… What’s he saying? Anatomy?

“If… It would _help_ …” you mumble tiredly.

“ **…** **Are you _certain?_** ” He asks, sounding a little surprised. “ **I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.** ”

You’re anything but uncomfortable right now with his petting and the alcohol numbing your senses. You nod against him sleepily.

“ **…** **Very well,** ” he hums, pleased. “ **But you must tell me the _moment_ you are uncomfortable.**”

His hard arms change position to scoop you up in a bridal carry once more, and he strides quickly down the hallway. You’re set down on a bed and you flop lazily onto your back, gripping the black silk sheets appreciatively as you start to doze.

…

Something’s _wrong_.

The gears miraculously start to click into place. What exactly did you just agree to?

Forcing one eye open, you see Gaster standing by the bed with a confident smirk on his face, loosening his tie.

* * *

 

Fuck, his phone is ringing. He can just barely hear it over the pounding music inside.

This damn lineup is still around the block and some bitch is waving her ID in his face. He grabs her arm to hold it still to read, before nodding towards the door to let her in. She scoffs at him and he quickly juts his leg out to make her trip. She shrieks as she immediately faceplants.

“ **don** **’t fall over yourself tryin** **’ to get in, honey, i know it** **’s a nice place,** ” he sneers. “ **anyone _else_ wanna try me?** ”

She scrambles to her feet in embarrassment, shuffling inside the open doorway. Grunting, he holds the line while taking his phone out of his pocket.

Oh _fuck_. It’s you.

… What the _fuck_ kind of stunt did Gaster pull?! He’s instantly _furious_.

“Hey, man-“

“ **shut it a sec and stay where i can see ya,** ” Sans barks.

“It’s just, my friends are already inside-“

“ ** _shut. it_ ,**” he warns.

He picks up the call on the last ring. Immediately he hears you sniffling.

“ **sweetheart,** ” he breathes, trying to disguise the sound of his teeth grinding together.

You’re crying. He can hear your strangled sniffling and voice raw from sobs.

“Are… You’re at work right now, aren’t you?” you whisper. Is there a reason you want to keep quiet?

“ **tell me what happened.** ”

“This is kind of embarrassing…” you struggle, voice still quiet. “Um, can… Can you get me out of here?” you sniff.

“ **where are you?** ”

“I’m… I’m in your dad’s bathroom.”

The phone crunches loudly as he reflexively crushes it. The plastic is cracked and the screen goes out as bits fall to the ground. But at least he can still hear you whimpering.

“ **stay right there and give me two minutes. i** **’m comin** **’ for ya, sweetheart,** ” he promises.

He pulls the phone from the side of his skull, briefly surveying the damage before he grunts and closes his fist around it, crushing it a bit more before sliding it into his pocket. The line of patrons in front of him is frozen stiff at the casual display of strength. He snatches the card out of the hand of the guy in front of him and the kid nearly pisses himself in response. He’s eighteen and the license is from Quebec.

“ **drinking age here is _nineteen_ , _asshole_. try across the river,** ” he barks.

“But, um-“

Sans flicks the license at the guy, making him scramble for it when it falls to the ground. “ **get the fuck outta my line. won** **’t say it twice.** ”

He gets the message and ducks under the rope before bolting away. The skeleton sighs, then turns and calls into the open door of the club.

“ **yo! _tony!_** ”

A bald human head turns at a booth just inside the door. “What do you need, Sans?”

“ **can you get the door? i need a break.** ”

He stands and heads over to him. “Girl trouble?”

“ **you could say that.** ”

“Which one?”

“ **the angry one,** ” he grins.

“… Oh shit.”

“ **back in fifteen.** ”

“Alright, I’ve got you covered.”

“ **’** **preciate it, man.** ”

“Anyone I should watch out for?”

“ **yeah, those two chicks near the back. the ones wearing halters an** **’ too much shit on their faces?** ”

“Think they’re under nineteens?”

“ **they look _thirteen_. what do _you_ think?** ”

“Alright,” he nods. “Go see your girl.”

Sans grins and disappears from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugghhhh. _Yes_ you can hate Gaster. This gave me serious heebie-jeebies to write. I get _very very triggered_ by dub-con and non-con stuff as well. This is pushing the line, I will not lie to you, but it definitely was always going to stop right there and go no further. No dub-con or non-con in this fic, as promised. All sex is 100% consensual.
> 
> Next chapter to follow within the next few minutes, most likely.
> 
> Also yes, Sans bounces some nightclub downtown. He's very good at it.
> 
> Also also, all the anecdotes Reader tells in here is true of my real-life ex 'Drew'.


	72. The Bathroom.

He appears and grabs you a few minutes later. Before you know it you’re standing in a hotel room.

“You’re late,” you whine, burying your face in his stained red t-shirt. His massive arms stay wrapped around you, securing you against his warm body.

“ **guy at the front desk was givin** **’ me shit,** ” he grumbles.

“Do… Do you have to get back?” you whimper. “I’m sorry…”

“ **forget about it,** ” he grunts. “ **tell me what you need.** ”

“Uhh… I think I actually forgot to go to the bathroom,” you flush, embarrassed.

He lets you go, and then grabs your arm to steady you when you wobble on your feet, walking you the rest of the way there. You stumble in and close the door over while he sighs and _thunks_ his skull against the wall outside. You settle in on the toilet for the longest pee of your life.

* * *

Sans is still standing guard outside the door. It’s probably past fifteen minutes by now, he figures. Did you fall asleep on the can? Hopefully Tony won’t be too pissed at him. He curses himself for wrecking his phone. As cathartic as it was, he needs that for making phone calls and shit.

… You’re probably okay for a second, doing… Whatever it is humans do in there… Right? And he remembers Tony’s number. Sans made him shout it across the floor several times before he got it, after all. Now everyone has it. Tony fucking _hates_ that.

Screw it, he’ll try the hotel phone.

A brisk walk across the room, he picks up the receiver and dials out.

“Tony here. What’s up?”

“ **yo, it** **’s sans.** ”

There’s a pause as he pulls the phone away from his ear to check the number. “You’re calling me from a hotel bro? _Nice_.”

“ **yeah. meant to be back sooner than this, but it** **’s gunna take more time.** ”

“No need, my friend. I’ll tell the boss I let you off the hook for the night.”

“ **i owe ya a cold one for this.** ”

“Treat her right, man,” Tony chuckles. Sans rolls his eye lights.

“ **whatever. see you tomorrow.** ”

He hangs up.

And then he realizes he can hear you sobbing again.

 _Fuck_.

He runs to the bathroom and pushes the unlatched door open.

And then _immediately_ regrets this decision. He snaps his sockets closed and turns away, entire skull flooding with heated magic.

You’ve got bush. DAMNIT. _NOT_ what he’s supposed to be thinking about right now. _Fucking HELL_ , Sans. You _FUCKING BASTARD_.

“… Sans?”

“ **you alright, sweetheart?** ” he tries.

“… I’m using the bathroom right now,” you sniffle.

“ **yeah, i can see that.** ” He should _really_ get out of here.

“… I’m- I’m sorry, I just…”

And then you start sobbing again.

 _Fuck_. But he can’t leave you crying like that.

“ **…** **wanna talk about it?** ” he tries.

“… Is _that_ what guys think of me?” you struggle. “That I’m… They can just get me drunk enough that I’ll let them _fuck_ me?”

He hisses through his teeth. So that’s why you’re such a mess. He’d _strangle_ Gaster if it wouldn’t mean _certain death_.

But… If he’s being honest with himself… He treated you pretty much the same before he got to know you.

“First _Grillby_ , now, _ugh_ , your _dad_. Just… Is it _me?_ What… What am I doing wrong?”

“ **nothing, you** **’re perfect.** ”

… Where the hell did _that_ come from?

You hack a short, miserable laugh. “No I’m not…”

“ **listen, sweetheart** **– guys like them can** **’t handle the fact that you** **’re tougher than they** **’ll _ever_ be,** ” he insists. “ **they don** **’t like it, so they** **’ve gotta wear down your defenses an** **’ hurt you to make** **‘emselves feel better. they** **’re fucking assholes that just wanna destroy somethin** **’ beautiful and that** **’s got _nothin_** ** _’_ to do with you. alright?** ”

… Okay, it’s not _much_ of a pep talk, he figures, but maybe it’ll help-

He feels your hand gripping the back of his shirt. He turns around and automatically pulls you into his chest in a hug.

And he INSTANTLY freezes in regret. You bury your messy face into his shirt as he shudders uncomfortably, pulling you in by the small of your back and gripping your hair rougher than he means to.

“… Thank you, Sans.”

“ **um, sweetheart?** ”

“Yeah?”

He pulls away and drags his massive mitts down his face. It must be entirely red now. “ **…** **can you maybe wipe yourself and pull your pants back on?** ”

“… Oh my _god_ ,” you fluster, embarrassed.

“ **the sooner the better,** ” he grunts.

* * *

After making sure you weren’t going to start crying again, Sans ported out for some snacks and soda while he let you finish up in the bathroom. He was stretched out on one of the beds trying to figure out what movie to rent when he heard a wet retching sound coming from the bathroom, and was on his feet in an instant to investigate.

Once you were all cleaned up, he walked you to the bed with your arm over his shoulders and a hand at your waist.

“ **got you some snacks,** ” he offers, helping you up onto the blankets.

You shake your head numbly. He shrugs and hops up next to you, stretching out on his back while floating the remote to his hand.

“ **wanna watch something? looks like they already got that new aliens movie on this thing,** ” he offers.

You crawl up on the bed next to him and clutch his shirt in your hand, curling into his side. He crooks a brow bone at that.

“ **…** **sweetheart?** ”

“Mmn?”

“ **…** **you** **’re already asleep, aren** **’t ya.** ”

“Hm.”

Well… Looks like he’s going to be here for a while. He clicks off the TV and tries to get some shut-eye himself.

* * *

You wake up the next morning to your head pounding. _Ow_. What the hell?

And why on earth would you fall asleep on something so _hard?_

You sit up in a panic. That does _not_ help your head. You’re not sure why you notice that the sheets aren’t black silk or why you’re so incredibly thankful for that fact.

… Why are you in a hotel room? What- Oh.

You look down at what, or rather _who_ , you were sleeping on, and feel yourself relax when you realize it’s just Sans. You must have been pretty drunk last night. Was he taking care of you?

… He was, actually. He held your hair while you barfed. He hugged you close when you cried against him, even though he was flustered by your naked lower half. You’re newly embarrassed by that fact.

Here is a guy that’s always been there for you, who sees you at your absolute _worst_ , and he sticks by you no matter what and even calls you perfect. And he’s still here.

… He’s really kind of amazing for putting up with you this long. And you’ve just acted like a complete idiot. When did you get so _na_ _ïve?_

Ugh. Before you can address _feelings_ you’ve first got to take care of this hangover.

Feels like your debit card is still in your pocket, so you use the bathroom and grab the room key off the luggage stand. You’ve got no shoes but fortunately it’s a dry day, so after checking with the front desk for directions you head to a convenience store across the street for some Advil and Gatorade. The clerk looks at you funny for being only in your socks, but you shrug him off. Once you’re back and remedied, you curl up on the bed against him with your head back on his chest, humming softly as you drift back off to sleep.

* * *

“ **hold up. you** **’re watching the kids today, right?** ”

“Right. Toriel said she would drop them off before noon.”

“ **hmm. wait out here for a sec.** ”

You’re back at the apartment with Sans after getting breakfast together, more than happy to wait since Gaster’s probably waiting for you inside.

“What’s up?”

“ **i** **’m gunna head in first, grab gaster, and we** **’re gunna have a** **… a _father-son_ day, let** **’s say.** ”

“Do I _want_ to know what that means?”

“ **don** **’t worry** **‘bout it,** ” he shrugs. “ **it** **’s gunna be a _great_ time.** ”

That only serves to make you more suspicious. Sans grins at you before disappearing. There’s a startled shout, evidently from Gaster, and some glass breaking, and then silence. What the fuck just _happened?_

You unlock the door and head in. The guys are definitely gone, and there’s a glass of water broken on the kitchen floor. Shrugging, you start to sweep it up. It looks like there’s a little cleaning to be done before Toriel gets here, so you set to work as you wonder absently about what’s going to happen between Sans and Gaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XD I wasn't sure about making Reader hug him naked from the waist down, but this is something my ex Drew did with me once (and it was super uncomfortable for me, good god), so I flipped the script and put Sans in my shoes to challenge his endurance XD
> 
> Also, a quick vote: **Do you want to see Sans and Gaster fight?** Say yes or no in the comments. It means putting off the confession by at least another chapter though.


	73. The Fight.

Red bones with sharpened points shoot out from the floor behind Gaster as he wheels around to confront his surprise assailant. His worthless _son_ has already disappeared, looking out at him from high above on the rocky outcropping over the door to the Ruins. A rare snow is falling.

“ ** _What_ is the _meaning_ of this?!** ” the infuriated royal scientist howls. Empty sockets glow with red rings for eyes.

Sans’ own red left eye glows back. “ **depends. what the _fuck_ did you try to do to _____?** ”

Gaster straightens his stance. It had clearly been Sans who abducted _____ from the apartment last night, but it’s always nice to have a theory confirmed. Gaster puts a few things together. “ **You were under _orders_ not to _interfere_ ,**” he snarls.

“ **right, like i** **’m gunna sit around and do _nothing_ when a girl calls me crying from _your bathroom_ ,**” Sans retorts, spitting into the snow. “ **you drop by the lab to suck her dry first, or did you just try to get her too drunk to notice you forcing yourself on her?** ” His empty eye socket twitches in rage.

The older skeleton scoffs. “ **If she was uncomfortable she only needed to speak against it. You cannot fertilize the _unwilling_ , after all.**”

Sans vanishes from view and there’s a loud _CRACK_ against his face. Gaster hurtles into the snow, righting himself before he lands and summoning a sharpened femur in his offhand.

“ **for the _final fucking_ time, she ain** **’t some _dog_ to breed! are you tryin** **’ to scare her off from _all_ monsters? because you** **’re doing a pretty _bang-up_ job!** ”

The royal scientist stands and touches his jaw experimentally. “ **I grow tired of this pointless banter. What _exactly_ are you driving at, _Sans?_** ”

“ **i** **’m gunna do what someone _should_** ** _’ve_ done a _thousand fucking years ago_. i** **’m _beyond sick_ of your shit ****– it** **’s past time somebody _put you down_.** ”

Gaster narrows his sockets at him. “ **…** **If it is a fight you desire, then let us get straight to the point.** ”

 

* * *

 

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. You quickly dry your hands on a tea towel and dash over to get it. Opening it you find Toriel, Frisk, Chara, and Asriel. Both Chara and Frisk have backpacks slung over their shoulders and sleeping bags in their hands, while Toriel is pulling a rolling suitcase behind her. All who wear clothes are dressed fairly casually – Chara with ripped up fitted jeans and a blush pink longsleeve blouse, golden heart locket around her neck and multiple thin coloured bracelets decorating one wrist, Frisk with overalls and a Transformers t-shirt and matching heart locket, and Toriel in a simple yellow blouse and faded blue mom jeans. Asriel the flower has taken his usual perch on Chara’s shoulder, his floral face tucked shyly next to her neck.

Frisk bubbles with excitement as they greet you. “Hi _____!! Thank you for watching us today!” they wave excitedly. Chara scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Hey guys, come on in!” you welcome them.

Frisk goes to do exactly that, but their adoptive mom grips their shoulder to hold them back. Frisk recoils like they’re on a bungee cord, turning back into the Queen’s side and gripping a fistful of her shirt with a big smile. “We need to go over a few rules, first,” Toriel declares.

 

* * *

 

It’s an intense game of cat and mouse.

Between the two of them, long-ranged attacks such as blasters and thrown bones are completely pointless, as they can both move out of the way faster than the projectiles can travel. Each of them has to anticipate where the other is going to appear next, Sans leveraging short-range teleports and Gaster moving like a shadow, and attack at close range. Neither can stay put for very long either, as they are constantly hot on each other’s trail. A brief pause in movement would mean ambush and certain death.

Sans can’t keep up with Gaster. It’s physically _impossible_.

But he’s never fought so hard in his life.

Purple skeletal hands sprout from the ground and grab him by the ankles, but he quickly destroys the magic binding with bones of his own and ‘ports away before Gaster shows up to spear him on another femur. Sans reappears above him with an attack of his own, but the royal scientist shadows and sprints away before he hits the ground. Sans is then suddenly on the defensive, dodging jabs left and right, before gripping his opponent’s soul with his magic. Gaster snarls as his entire body glows red, thrown to the side into a wall of spiked bones and howling in agony. He recovers quickly, but Sans has already vanished.

He reappears high in one of the old pine trees around Snowdin, covered in red luminescent sweat and struggling to catch his breath. His clothes are already tatters and he’s got a fibula snapped through.

This isn’t going to last much longer.

 

* * *

 

Frisk is allergic to shellfish and has an epi-pen in their bag, and Chara only has seasonal allergies but the snow is finally starting to melt outside so she has medicine just in case. Toriel also warns you against giving Chara too much sugar as her human family has a lot of relatives with type 2 diabetes. Asriel has no allergies or other medical concerns. Toriel gives you the run-down of their nightly routine, too; Electronics off at 8:30, pajamas on by 8:45, teeth brushed at 8:50 and lights out by 9pm, and don’t forget to remind Chara to take out her contacts. It seems kind of strict, but then again, so does she.

She nuzzled the heads of each of her human children and gave Asriel a quick pat before turning away and leaving with little in the way of a goodbye. You weren’t sure to make of the brief affection and dismissive way she left, but all the kids are smiling and apparently feeling loved nonetheless. Queen Toriel Dreemurr is an _intense_ woman, but she clearly has a softer side. Kind of like Sans does, once you got to know him.

Frisk runs up and wraps their arms tightly around your waist, and you giggle and tousle their hair. “What are we going to play first?” they ask excitedly.

“As if you don’t already know,” you snicker mischievously, teasing the little time controller.

They throw you a flash of a smile of their own, before practically skipping over to the kitchen for an apron. So they’ve done this at least once already.

“Uh, okay – What _are_ we doing?” Chara asks, completely left behind by the exchange.

“We’re making cookies,” you announce proudly.

Chara’s whole face brightens, red eyes practically shining in delight. “Even though my mom said not to give me sugar?”

You hum as you consider it. “How many relatives in your family have diabetes?”

“Like _two!_ One’s my uncle who has _other_ health problems and the other is my great-aunt who married my grandfather,” she protests. “Mom’s _completely_ overreacting.”

“Well… If there’s a problem then we’ll deal with it,” you assert. “But until that happens I’m going to assume you’re just as sugar tolerant as I am.”

“… What kind of cookies are we going to be making?”

“ _All_ of them.”

The princess sniffles.

“ _Whoa_ , Chara! Are you okay?” you panic, suddenly concerned.

“This is… This is the _best_ day _ever_ …” she whimpers happily.

 

* * *

 

He’d gotten Gaster to slam into a wall of bones at high-speed, but that was a trick that only worked twice. He’d also managed to grab him a couple more times and throw him into some trees with his magic, but Gaster was doing something to dispel the bind now. The Royal Scientist is _relentless_ , and Sans has taken quite a few more hits than he was planning on. Still, his supercharged HP is making him last longer than he thought he would.

Red-orange jaws lined with pointed teeth fly at Sans from everywhere at once, snapping at him like the mouths of a dozen hungry piranhas. He quickly throws out some fresh bone attacks to destroy them before they can latch on. He’s then sent flying as a large bone cracks him over the head. He hurtles into the snow and skids to clunk against the base of a tree.

“ **Are you _quite_ finished?** ” Gaster snarls, suddenly appearing to tower over him. His suit is just as tattered as Sans’ own clothing, frayed edging to large gaping holes. Some of his bones have new chips and hairline fractures, but he’s otherwise whole. His red eyes glower down at his son threateningly.

Sans on the other hand, is a lot worse off. His clothes are mere rags, and some of his bones are cracked through. It’s taking more than half of his concentration to use his healing magic just to hold himself together. He heaves an anguished breath as he rises to stand, leaning against the tree with one hand for support.

“ **this ain** **’t over... until one of us... is _dust_ ,**” he spits.

“ **That can be arranged.** ”

A sharpened bone forms in the royal scientist’s hand and he moves to swing it like a sword.

Sans panics and sprouts several pointed bones from the ground under his assailant’s feet.

But Gaster’s disappeared again. Sans can’t immediately see where he went.

A cerulean blue bone is gripped in a hand.

Sans takes the hit in the center spine and the skeleton drops.

 

* * *

 

“Frisk! _Ugh_ , you got the flour _all over_ me!”

You were watching Frisk hold the cup of flour. It was _not_ an accident. They even threw you a wink just before doing it. You sigh.

“Good, it goes with your pale face.”

“Oh, eat my _ass!_ ”

“NO! You _poop_ from there! And language!”

“ _Whatever!_ Mom’s not here!”

“ _Chara!_ ”

“Fuck. Shit. Piss-“

“Spoiled brat!”

“Pende-joe!”

“That’s _not_ even how you _say_ it!”

“WHATEVER!”

They’re fighting again. You’re not sure whether to laugh at the insults or scold them. Then again, you’re supposed to be the authority figure here, right?

“ _Chara. Frisk_ ,” you bark. “If you two don’t knock it off _right now_ , I’m going to eat _all_ of the cookies once they’re done!” you attempt.

The princess and the ambassador both pause with fear in their eyes.

“But there’s like four dozen cookies!” Chara complains. “You can’t eat that _many_ on your _own!_ ”

Gripping one of the completed containers of chocolate chunk cookies, you slide it towards you and grip the edge of the lid. “ _Try me_ ,” you grin.

Chara looks apprehensively at the smaller child beside them. “Does she do it?”

Frisk has a look of disgust crossing their face. “She pukes after two dozen. It’s… Pretty gross.”

“… Ew. I’m good with a truce if we can skip that,” Chara volunteers.

“Yeah. _Once_ was enough,” they shudder.

 

* * *

 

He’s not dead.

Sans groans as he hauls himself to sit up against the tree. Looking over himself, his clothes are barely hanging on to his body and his arms and legs are deeply cracked and chipped all to hell.

Gaster must have left him at one HP. Figures.

He tries to access his healing magic, but gets a burning sensation in his empty eye socket instead. Ugh, must’ve used magic suppressants on him to slow him down too, so no teleporting either. And Underground is far too dangerous to try and get through at one HP. There are still human traps all over the place and he’s not a hundred percent sure he knows how to avoid every single one.

Instead, he’s just going to have to sit and wait for the drugs to wear off, so he can patch himself up and ‘port out of here.

Meanwhile, the Royal Scientist has a huge lead on him.

 

* * *

 

Someone’s knocking on the front door. You wipe your hands on a tea towel to get it, but Frisk jumps in front of you and holds their arms out.

“It’s Gaster,” they tell you.

“… _Oh_.” It seems like you really don’t want to get it after all.

Chara pulls off her apron and throws it on the counter. “I’ve got it,” she says. “Stay in here.”

… Okay? You watch as the princess heads confidently over to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. For yourself, you back out into the diningroom and peek out around the corner. Not out of fear or anything, just to scope things out without being seen or being too obvious about wanting to see. Although, the action kind of makes you feel like a comic book character trying and failing to be sneaky.

Well, that’s definitely _Gaster_ , but what you can see of his clothes shows that they are _shredded_ , _holy shit_. You weren’t _completely_ oblivious to the fact that Sans would probably try to fight him, what with kidnapping him with a teleport and the insincere mention of a ‘father-son outing’, but you had no idea how intense it could get.

“Doctor Gaster,” Chara orders. “You are _not_ coming in here. Instead, I want you to go somewhere else to sit there and do nothing for at _least_ six hours. _Got it?_ ”

Amazingly, you see the slender legs of the royal scientist shift to kneel. “ **Of course, my princess. As you command.** ”

With that, he turns and walks out of sight. Chara slams the door closed and locks it, then turns towards you and Frisk and throws her fists up in the air in a victory pose.

“I’m so glad that _worked!_ ” the princess cheers. “Oh my god, I just kicked the royal scientist out of his own apartment,” she laughs.

“Is there a chance that it _wouldn_ _’t?_ ” you have to ask, now more than a little concerned.

“If-if someone has enough Determination, more than Ch-Chara does, then yes,” Asriel answers meekly, sprouting up from the counter where he’s measuring a small teaspoon of baking soda, half teaspoon carefully balanced in thin feathery roots.

“In magic, the strongest soul wins,” Frisk adds with a nod.

“… Is _Sans_ okay?”

Chara bounds up to the kitchen and looks accusingly at Frisk. Frisk grips your sleeve as their chestnut brown eyes smile at you.

“He’s okay. He’s hurt, but he’s going to call for help.”

 

* * *

 

“What the _fuck?_ ”

Undyne’s staring in disbelief at the sight outside of her door right now.

“ **can you heal me or what?** ”

“Who, or _what_ , did you fight?” the sergeant asks skeptically. “A _trash compactor?_ ”

Sans rumbles a shaky sigh. “ **gaster.** ”

“Tch. _Idiot_ ,” she shakes her head. “ _Fine_. Get your ass in here, then.”

The mermaid moves out of the way as the skeleton lumbers in and flops down on the couch. Undyne disappears into her bedroom for a moment, rummaging through her dresser for the change of clothes he left at her place. When she turns back around the corner she scoffs as she sees that he’s helped himself to a beer.

“You should’ve told me you were going to fight your dad,” she scolds, setting the clothes on the arm of the couch next to him. “I would have _loved_ to help you fight him.”

Sans groans, shaking his head. “ **this was my fight. wouldn** **’ve been any sense getting** **’ someone else dusted with me.** ”

“So he’s still alive then,” she muses flatly, sinking into the couch beside him.

“ ** _’_** ** _course_ he** **’s alive. that bastard** **’s unkillable.** ”

“Too bad.”

“ **you** **’re tellin** **’ me.** ”

Undyne holds out her hands over his chest, palms glowing green with magic. “Where should I start?”

“ **i just need the superficial shit i missed patched up. i can** **’t go around lookin** **’ like i lost a fight.** ”

“You mean you can’t let _______ see you all banged up,” she smirks.

“ ** _ugh_. okay yeah, that too,** ” he grumbles.

Sans settles in to the couch as Undyne starts to work on the cracks. A companionable silence falls between them as she works on the new marks in his bones. After getting what she can on his skull, his clavicle, and encouraging his broken leg to fill out a bit, making it sturdier, she drops her hands and sighs tiredly.

“You’re still going to have scars,” the mermaid informs him.

“ **’** **s fine,** ” he rumbles, setting the bottle on the coffee table and shifting to stand from the sofa.

“Are you going to be done here soon? I have to get to wo- Woah woah WOAH! _SANS!_ ”

His tattered shirt is already off his head and he’s sliding his shorts down to his ankles. “ **what?** ”

She shields her closed eyes with webbed hands. “You can’t just strip naked in front of me you asshole!”

“ **nothing you haven** **’t seen before,** ” he chuckles. “ **’** **sides, i** **’m not horny around _you_ , fishstick. there ain** **’t nothin** **’ to see.** ”

She sighs and drops her hands, still keeping her yellow eyes looking pointedly away. “Ugh. Just… Just let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

“ ** _fine_.** ”

“And you’re teleporting me to work since you’ve made me miss the bus.”

“ **alright. by the way, nice uniform. royal guard not pay enough?** ”

She looks down at the embroidered red ‘Tim Hortons’ on her left lapel. “Papyrus is a _cheapskate_ so _no_ , and _shut up_.”

“ **your secret** **’s safe with me,** ” Sans grins.

“No, it isn’t,” she sighs.

“ **okay, you might be right about that,** ” he chuckles.

 

* * *

 

“Frisk, uh, come to the bathroom with me.”

“What? _No!_ ”

Chara grabs the ambassador’s arm and attempts to drag them along, but Frisk holds their ground by pressing their heels into the floor and pulling away.

“I need to talk to you for a sec!” the princess groans. “Come on!”

“I’m not going into the _bathroom_ with you! That’s _gross!_ ” Frisk complains.

“UGH! Don’t be such a _child!_ ”

“ _You_ _’re_ a child! Who talks in the _bathroom?!_ You’re so _weird!_ ”

“Chara, what’s going on?” you ask, moving some warm cookies into containers from the hot baking sheets with a spatula. These kids are _always_ at each other’s throats, you’ve observed, even if it’s mostly non-violent bickering. Maybe having the four of you in a small hot kitchen most of the afternoon wasn’t the _best_ idea for your first babysitting gig.

“Uhm, it- it’s a secret!” she grins sweetly. “Just between us siblings, okay?”

“Chara wants to convince me to help her convince _you_ to smooch Sans,” Frisk reveals.

The princess drops their arm and flusters, her expression a mix of embarrassment and rage. “F- _Frisk!!_ ” The ambassador just folds their arms and glares right back.

You sigh and slide your hands out of the oven mitts. “I’m already convinced,” you tell them.

“Wh- _what?_ ” Asriel is surprised.

Frisk turns and grins at you knowingly, and you rest a hand in their messy brown locks.

“… _Oh_ ,” Chara’s at a loss for words.

You grip your elbow with the opposite hand and sigh. “… He really helped me out last night, and it’s kind of made me realize how stupid I was being. But, _now_ , with everything that’s happened? I’m not even sure he’s interested in me anymore.”

“Of _course_ he’s interested in you!”

Did they just shout that in unison? Both the human kids have very determined looks on their faces. Asriel’s hiding behind a mixing bowl in surprise at the outburst.

“… Okay, if you’re all so sure,” you smile weakly. “Alright then, next question; Do we even want the same things out of life? I don’t expect you guys to know the answer to that, but I’ve been having doubts about that since the beginning, honestly.”

Frisk shrugs. “Why don’t you just ask him?”

Fair point. Clever kid. You smile and wring your hands together. “Okay. I guess I will. Um, do you think you guys could help me out with that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XD I love Undyne and Sans' dynamic too much, making them exes was the best idea ever.
> 
> So yeah, he's still alive but he's a bit wounded. As for Gaster's abilities, well... If you've been reading Gaster Timeline then you already know about the movement one, but the different coloured magic attacks are new >:)
> 
> Apart from all that, this is another chapter that I feel kind of felt flat? It communicates what it needs to/what I want it to, but even though it's over 3200 words it still seems lacking to me :/ Feedback is always appreciated :)


	74. The Best Day Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's heeeere XD

“Best day _everrrr_ _…_ ”

Chara lazily pumps her fist up in the air before sighing and rolling on to her side on the plush livingroom carpet. You giggle, then moan in agony before flopping on to your back near her. Frisk mumbles something quietly into their folded up arms, face buried in them where they lay on their stomach nearby.

“What was that, Frisk?” you ask.

They lift their head up, a sickly look on their face. “I said I _totally_ saw this coming… And I did it again anyways.”

“… You guys are _crazy_ ,” the princely flower huffs, sounding amused.

Asriel’s sprouting out of the floor in the center of the three of you, near the plate with the remains. He’d nibbled on maybe one baked good the entire afternoon, so he was completely fine.

The rest of you, on the other hand, had eaten far too many cookies.

“No regrets,” Chara hums happily.

“Some regrets,” you disagree.

“ _All_ the regrets…” Frisk whines. “I feel _awful_.”

“We won’t do this again,” you promise. Chara immediately snorts in obvious protest. “Or at least, _if_ we do? We’ll stop at a _single_ batch, or do smaller batches of different ones, or whatever.”

The princess opens her mouth to respond, but she’s cut off by the sound of jangling keys just outside the front door. You roll onto your belly so you can get up on your feet, ready to amble over to the diningroom in case Gaster’s figured out the plot early. Maybe Chara can make him go away again. You’re not ready for that awkwardness just yet.

Frisk quickly pushes against the floor and sits back in an attempt to scramble to their feet, but hesitates to hold their stomach and whine. You decide to finish getting to your feet so you can go and hide just as the door swings open.

“ _Sans!_ ”

You freeze in place, turning at the waist to see Frisk shamble up to the broad skeleton in the entryway. They hug his leg while he finishes sliding his keys back in his pocket, then he ruffles their hair messily in greeting.

“ **’** **sup, kiddo? i brought doughnuts,** ” Sans chuckles. “ **you** **’ll never guess who sold** **‘em to me.** ”

Frisk releases him, throwing their head back and groaning. “No more!”

“ **the _f-_ uh, what the heck happened to _you?_** ”

You head over and offer him a warm smile, holding your hands out for the box of doughnuts. “ _I_ happened to them,” you admit. “It turns out that, while baking about fourteen-dozen cookies may _seem_ like a good idea to keep the kids busy, we all have our limits on how many we can actually _eat_.”

Sans blinks his sockets, red eye scanning you for a moment, then shrugs and holds out the box for you to grab.

“Not me!”

But a lanky teenager beats you to it, and snatches it out of the air right in front of you. She dodges your feeble attempt to grab her, but the princess proves too agile as she scampers to the livingroom. She cackles madly as she falls into a cross-legged sitting position in front of Asriel, the box already open. You chuckle weakly at that, almost able to hear the eyes of the ambassador roll around derisively.

Turning back to Sans, you wring your hands together.

… Where do you even _begin?_

Sure, you’ve made peace with the fact that yes, you like Sans. Barrier broken - you’ve admitted it to yourself _and_ to the kids, but now… Is he even still interested in you? And do you even want the same things out of life? How do you just come out and ask a skeleton monster if he wants to get married and have kids? Well, _adopt_ kids, at the very least. How do you find the right words to say?

Maybe you should’ve worked this out earlier, instead of eating a dozen cookies as a substitute for lunch. Ugh.

He raises a brow bone at you and you snap back to reality as you realize you’re staring. Flushing, you fold your arms across your body and start to work out what to say. How’s your day been? You can guess he’d make a joke about waking up next to you. Then, how did his ‘father-son’ thing work out? Come to think of it, he _does_ look really scratched up and the area under his sockets seems darker, making him appear weary. _Wait_ \- is he _okay??_

“ **somethin** **’ on my face, sweetheart?** ” he grins sharply, winking his empty right eye socket at you. Okay, he’s probably still interested in you.

“Sans, are you-?“

“I want to play a game!” Frisk shouts empathically, still pressed into the skeleton’s side. He looks down at the twerp with a brow bone raised, and you breathe a tiny breath of relief now that his attention isn’t on you anymore.

“ **what** **’d ya have in mind, squirt?** ”

Frisk finds their energy and jogs across the livingroom, standing on their toes to reach a box high on a shelf. You move to help them when you realize they’re off-balance, stretching to their full-height on one foot and trying to move something half their size. But they claim their prize easily as if this is a practiced move, setting the game box on the floor to re-orient it before turning around to display it, grinning broadly.

It’s The Game of Life.

… Frisk, you absolute _genius_.

* * *

Sans is glad he went through the college track. Now he gets the best salary in the game _and_ he gets to bust the kids every time they cheat and spin a ten since he picked cop. Frisk followed him through college, while Chara and yourself had decided to get a head start on life. He’s already winning by a large margin.

“Hey Sans, it’s your spin,” Chara reminds him.

“ **nice.** ”

He spins a high number, but he’s stopped short by one of the life event tiles.

“Looks like you’ve got to get married,” you point out, smiling slyly. “Do you want a husband or a wife?”

He snorts. “ **is that a real question?** ”

“Well, you never know,” you tease.

“ ** _wife_ ,**” he grunts. Two can play at _that_ game.

You smile and offer him one of the tiny pink people pegs, but he grins and holds his hand up to stop you.

“ **naw, not that one.** ”

Furrowing your brows in that annoyed look he loves to inspire, you look at the peg and then at him. “What’s wrong with it?” you ask.

“ **she ain** **’t hot enough. find me a sexier wife,** ” he insists.

Rolling your eyes, you put the peg back into the pile and find another one. He hums indecisively as he inspects it.

“ **naw, she** **’s barely a seven. find me another one.** ”

“Is that _all_ you care about?”

Now it’s his turn to knit his brows together. “ **s** **’matter with you? i was just messin** **’ around,** ” he explains.

“Nothing,” you sigh, offering him a different peg anyways.

“ **you sure?** ”

“Yeah, it’s whatever. Sorry for snapping,” you tell him, hugging your knees to your chest on the floor next to him, face halfway sunk behind your folded arms.

He hums at that. He isn’t sure what he did wrong this time, but he feels the need to smooth things over with you anyways.

“ **’** **sides, if i** **’m being honest, if anyone wanted to marry a guy like _me?_ i** **’d easily be the luckiest monster alive.** ”

… _Now_ what did he say? You kind of shot him a surprised look and then hid your face even _more_.

“Sans, why’d you move your peg and your wife to the back of the van?” the princess asks him.

He shrugs. “ **there** **’re a lot of baby tiles on this board, how d** **’you figure they** **’re made?** ”

Frisk slams their hands against the floor in front of them. “How ARE babies made!?”

He turns to you just in time to get swat in the shoulder, and he cackles madly at your flushed expression. “ _SANS!_ Are you _serious!?_ ”

“Nobody ever tells me when I ask!” the ambassador insists.

Chara seems to be out of commission, red-faced and fallen backwards, rolling around on the floor with the most strange gurgling laugh sputtering between tightly pressed together lips. Clearly she’s got more information than the eight year-old squirt on that particular subject. Asriel’s abandoned his spot to make sure the princess isn’t about to choke on air.

“We’re not answering that question today!” you sing anxiously, completely red in the face as well.

He grins wolfishly, turning to look at you. “ **if i can find a willing woman, i** **’d be willing to demonstrate,** ” he winks.

“Sans, NO!”

“ **sans oh _hell_ yes.** ” He thrusts his hips forward for emphasis.

The all hot and bothered look you’re throwing him is like a work of art, and he waggles his brow bones for effect. You fall backwards yourself for a moment, then sit up and desperately try to regain _some_ of your shed dignity. Then, you grab his minivan game piece away from him, move the two pegs back to the front, and put it back on the board while stealing the dice from him.

“I’m taking my turn before Sans derails us any further,” you assert, voice cracking with your composure.

“So, _wait_ ,” Frisk complains. “Is no one going to tell me where babies come from!?”

* * *

 

Gaster came home a while ago. Man, _that_ was tense. He made a beeline for you as soon as he came in the door, but Chara jumped in front of you protectively, and when you held her shoulder you noticed she was shaking. Fortunately, this time you could talk him down without her intervening. You told him you’re not interested in him in that way at all, and he apologized profusely as he realized how his actions could be ‘misconstrued’. Yeah, _right_. But after that, he was more than happy to retire to his room early for the evening, exhausted by the day’s events. Sans seemed to be smiling proudly at you, but with faintly red beads of sweat dotting his ivory skull. Well, thankfully, everything seemed to work out for the best.

After ushering the kids into the bathroom to get their PJs on one at a time, then collectively got the three of them to brush their teeth, you set them up sprawled out on the couch and loveseat with pillows and blankets. You gave Asriel a pat where he rest his floral head on a pillow next to Chara before turning away to tug on Sans’ sleeve.

“Can we talk for a sec?” you whisper.

He nods.

Leading him into his bedroom, he raises a brow in suspicion as you close the door behind him.

“ **somethin** **’ on your mind, sweetheart?** ”

“… _Yeah_ ,” you hesitate. “I have a lot of things on my mind right now.”

“ **i** **’m all ears,** ” he winks.

“Pfft. You don’t _have_ ears.”

“ **that** **’s a minor detail i** **’m willing to overlook,** ” he chuckles.

You fold your arms in front of you as your head spins. Well, the board game _had_ answered some questions of yours, at least – Apart from Sans’ shenanigans with the ‘hot wife’ demand, he wasn’t at all opposed to the idea of tying the knot, or of having kids either. That’s reassuring. At least you’re somewhat on the same page there. You also liked that he jumped at the police career card when it was presented to him. Sure it had the benefit of gaining more cash, but it also made him seem more… Responsible, and protective.

So, _why_ did you have to get so nervous all of a sudden? Sans is your _best friend_ , and you _like_ him, well, a whole _hell_ of a _lot_. Why is this even _hard?_

It probably has something to do with friend-zoning him so long ago. _Ugh_. If you could turn back the clock…

“ **sweetheart? you okay?** ”

“Yeah, sorry. Just trying to put my words together,” you explain.

“ **you can tell me anything, you know.** ”

“I know, I know.”

“ **so what** **’s the problem?** ”

“I’m just thinking, okay?”

“ **what** **’ve you got to think about?** ”

“ _God_ , Sans- I just, this isn’t something you can just come out and _say!_ ”

“ **man, why do you humans gotta make shit so difficult? just say it. don** **’t stress so much about it. whatever it is, i** **’m sure i can handle it.** ”

“Now you’re not even giving me space to talk!”

“ **well you** **’re not saying anything. it** **’s makin** **’ me kinda nervous.** ”

“Well, I was-“

“ **wait - you** **’re not pregnant, are ya?** ” he groans.

“What!? NO!”

“ **oh thank fuck. i ain** **’t even touched you yet.** ”

“I’m _not_ \- **_WHAT!?_** ”

He laughs at your flushed expression. “ **just throwin** **’ you off. now, what have ya got to tell me, sweetheart?** ” he prompts. “ **i mean, glad you** **’re not _pregnant_ an** **’ all-** “

“God _damnit_ you big idiot just get _over_ here.”

Sans stands stock still while you roll your eyes and march over to him, gripping the sides of his stupid sexy jacket in each hand and pulling him down, pressing your lips against his mouth in an abrupt and forceful kiss.

* * *

 

His hands come out of his pockets and twitch uncomfortably at your sides, mouth hesitantly trying to move with yours. What is happening right now?

You’re… _Kissing_ him?

He summons a bone attack near his foot and hits himself with it. That hurts. So it’s not a dream then. He’s not actually dust in Snowdin forest right now, living some sort of fantasy life before his soul shatters into nothingness. This is _real_.

… Yeah, that’s not helping his understanding of the situation at all.

Before he can really savour it it’s over, and you pull away and look up at him with a regretful expression.

“Sorry…” you stammer. “I should’ve asked, I-“

“ **…** **do you mean it?** ”

His tone is… Far more fearful than he intended. He’s only just starting to put the pieces together, and now he’s worried he didn’t react the right way, didn’t reciprocate properly, and that now you’re going to think he doesn’t want this, want _you_ , even after such a brazen display of affection.

And damn, does he _ever_ want _you_.

Your soul seems to brighten as you understand what he’s asking you. “Yes, Sans. I… You’ve _always_ been there for me, even when I’ve been such a shit person to you. I… I dismissed you, at first, largely just because you’re a _monster_ , and that… Well, that was really _awful_ of me. I should’ve been more open-minded-“

He claps a hand over your mouth and pulls you against his hard body with a hand pressing on your back. “ **no more talking.** ”

Then he shows you what a _real_ kiss is like.

Unbeknownst to either of you, three sets of eyes peek in through a crack in the door frame - two human, one floral. Frisk and Chara snicker quietly to each other while Asriel’s face has gone entirely pink.

“Best day _everrrr_ ,” the princess whispers, followed by a soft set of giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha, I had to make them banter and argue again. I just love it XD
> 
> Next chapter - I have no idea D: Possibly a makeout session and the morning after? We'll see. Also, this is your opportunity to tell me your favourite date ideas for these two, _and_ your favourite kinks. I'll see what I can include in this arc. I already have a couple of ideas but I'm definitely going to need more!
> 
> If you're shy and don't necessarily want to post a kink idea in the comments, feel free to message me or send an ask on anon on my [Tumblr!](https://ladyanatares.tumblr.com/)


	75. The Morning.

He grips your ass firmly and hefts you upwards to wrap your legs around his spine, marching over to the bed in a hurry. Neither of you breaking off the kiss, nor showing any sign of slowing down.

Dropping you onto the mattress he doesn’t hesitate before he’s on top of you, pinning you to the sheets with his heavy body, kissing you deeply and invading every inch of your mouth with his red luminescent tongue in search for yours. The magic of it tingles and vibrates pleasantly, and he nearly loses himself when you moan delightfully and begin to suck on it.

Every single bone in his body is _trembling_ with raw, animalistic _Lust_.

How many times has he imagined this? Imagined throwing you onto his bed and violating every _inch_ of your soft, perfect body? Imagined nipping up and down your arms, your legs, neck, _inner thighs_ … Leaving love marks that could _only_ be caused by his sharp maw, letting _everyone_ know who you come home to. Who you _belong_ to.

… You would probably _hate_ to hear him talk like that. Best to keep that fantasy to himself.

You grip the shoulder of his jacket and he takes the hint, teleporting it off of himself to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. Then you grip the bottom of his shirt and he fucking _swoons_. You want to see him bare bones? Heh, why the hell _not?_

Sitting up he tears the shirt off over his head, and then he gets a real treat when you suddenly flip the script. Pinning _him_ to the bed now, you rake your fingernails down his battered ribcage, and he shakes with a breath at how unexpected and _good_ that feels. Holy _shit_ you’re amazing.

As much as he loves the fact that you’re taking the lead, he can’t resist the temptation to undress you too. You stumble back on your knees when he sits up, sliding his large hands under your tank top up along your sides, pulling you against him. The feeling of the soft skin of your stomach pressed against his hard hot bones causes you to gasp, sending all the rational parts of his mind swiftly packing and all the magic in his body focused on one spot. He chews gently on your lower lip as he pulls your shirt up, you lifting your arms willingly to let it pass over your head.

The bedroom door slams shut and you both seem to break out of the spell you were under. You squeak in panic and hug your chest to hide what can be seen of your breasts in the cups of your bra, withdrawing from Sans while he leans back on his elbows, admiring your heated expression.

“Oh my god! I forgot to lock the door,” you breathe, holding a hand over your eyes and flushing pink.

“ **not interested in an audience, sweetheart?** ” he chuckles.

“Not when it’s _Toriel_ _’s kids!_ ” you fluster. “Scarring them for life? That would make for a _very_ quick end to my babysitting career.”

“ **well, seems we** **’re alone now,** ” he growls, sitting up to graze his teeth along the tender skin of your neck, pressing you into him with a warm hand against your bare back.

“Wait, Sans.”

He sighs and rests his skull against your shoulder. He already knows that this is moving too fast, knows that you probably want to stop. “ **yeah, sweetheart?** ” he mumbles softly.

“Uhm… How far did you want to go tonight?” you ask nervously.

… Is that an invitation? He pulls away, ivory head dotting with faintly red sweat as he grips your shoulders for stability.

“ **we, uh, should probably call it there,** ” he suggests.

* * *

“Looks like _someone_ had a good night last night!”

The princess goes to elbow you in the side and you swat at her with the spatula. “You little twerp,” you scold her. “I can’t believe you were seriously spying on Sans and me.”

“So what _happened!?_ ” Chara insists excitedly. “Did he take you to the ‘bone zone’?” she cackles.

You hang your head in defeat.

“ **don** **’t you have homework to start or somethin** **’?** ”

She immediately turns on the skeleton instead, and you breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Did you guys have _fun_ last night?” she continues to pester.

Sans walks over and grips her by the shoulder. Chara struggles but he continues to firmly press down on her to walk her out of the kitchen and leave you be. Once she’s been removed, he turns back to circle his arms around your waist, pressing you into his hard body while you try to finish cooking the pancakes and bacon you’re making everyone for breakfast.

“ _You_ look like you slept well,” you grin, feeling him nuzzle into your hair. “You’re practically _glowing_ this morning.”

“ **mmm, i wonder why,** ” he growls next to your ear.

“We should _probably_ settle down while the kids are here,” you remind him. “Toriel’s going to be back this afternoon, right?”

“ **and _after?_** ” he challenges.

You turn around and wrap your hands loosely around his cervical vertebrae. “We’ll see,” you grin.

He hums pleasantly at that, pulling you into himself with his hard palms flat against your back. He really does look very content this morning. No dark circles under his eye sockets, his red left eye is glowing brightly and he seems quite alert. And all you’ve done so far is kiss and sleep next to each other _not_ by accident for once. He’s in clean clothes and freshly showered, although the lingering scent of mustard is still there.

“Do you _bathe_ in it?” you ask, wrinkling your nose.

“ **…** **what?** ”

You shake your head. “Nevermind.”

“ **…** **Ah. Good morning _____, good morning Sans.** ”

Both of you turn to see Gaster, who barely even seems as if he’s slept at all with how immaculate he looks. His suit and tie are pressed and his expression is awake and lucid. The only thing about him indicating that he has biological needs like anyone else is the strong scent of some minty body wash from his shower. Sans rolls his one red eye light around in his socket at the sight of his father. Gaster frowns.

“ ** _Well_ ,**” the royal scientist begins. “ **I suppose congratulations are in order.** ”

“ **for?** ” Sans challenges, gripping you a little tighter. You can _feel_ the tense energy between them, shocking you like prickly static electricity in the air.

“ **For winning the bet against Grillby, naturally.** ”

His hands briefly tense, then he lets you go and you immediately turn and flip a pancake to find it a little darker than desired. You sigh.

“ **I apologize, my dear,** ” Gaster continues with a bow out of the corner of your eye. “ **While _I_ certainly find the practice of betting on your affections _distasteful_ , it seems that my _son_ -**“

“Oh, come _off_ it Gaster.”

The tall skeleton pauses. “ **I beg your pardon?** ”

“Sans didn’t make a bet with Grillby. He doesn’t even _like_ the guy,” you explain. “You’re not going to ruin the only good thing to happen to me in _months_ with a transparent lie like _that_.”

“ **How I wish it _were_ , but-**“

“ _You_ were the one who made the bet Grillby, _weren_ _’t_ you,” you accuse flatly. You plate the pancake and set the spatula down to glare at him. “I _know_ that you and Grillby are old friends, that Sans doesn’t _have_ that kind of money to throw around, and _he_ was the one to comfort me after that disaster of a breakup. Geez, no _wonder_ you’ve been so pushy.”

The royal scientist, for once, seems to be at a loss for words. You shake your head in pity. Sans grips your shoulder firmly to offer you any support you might need.

“I tried to trust you, Gaster. I _really_ did. But instead of proving to me that everyone was wrong about you, that you’ve changed, that you’ve had some kind of redemption since coming to the Surface? Instead, you’ve shown me what kind of monster you _really_ are.”

After that, Gaster tried. He really, really tried to convince you otherwise, but you weren’t having it. He even started to get angry with you, but with Sans at your back you held your ground. Sans let you do all the talking, let you fight your own fight, and just offered his silent support by staying right there with you to weather it. Eventually, Gaster could see he was gaining no ground with you in spite of his protests, and offered a thousand apologies for his behaviour. In the end, however, none of it was good enough. He left the apartment with his figurative tail between his legs.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Sans scooped you up in his arms and started marching down the hallway.

“Sans!”

“ **bedroom. _now_.** ”

Then he licked his glowing red tongue sensually along that sensitive spot on your neck, huffing a laugh when you shuddered in his massive arms in response.

“S- _Sans!_ I’m babysitting?!” you complain, giving his ribs a smack.

He stops in his tracks and heaves a disappointed breath, letting you down to stand on your own once again, shoving his large mitts in his pockets to restrain himself.

“ **later, then,** ” he promises with a grin.

“What’s gotten in to you?”

“ **just remembered how fucking _sexy_ you are all of a sudden. wanted to show you somethin** **’ special,** ” he winks.

You’re sure your face is redder than his, and you hide your expression with a hand. “Oh my _god_.”

“ **uh, more seriously though,** ” he starts, running a hand along the top of his bald skull. “ **you were pretty amazing just now, sweetheart.** ”

“What did I do?”

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you into him. “ ** _nobody_ stands up to gaster, or calls him on his shit like that. you were perfect.** ”

“Oh,” you blush. “Thanks, I guess?”

“ **i can** **’t believe he tried to pin that stupid bet on me.** ”

“Me either! That was such a bullshit move.”

“ **you said i couldn** **’ afford it?** ”

“I mean, I _assume_. It was for two thousand gold.”

“ **…** **_holy shit_.** ”

“I know, right?”

“ **think i could ring** **‘im up and cash in?** ”

“Oh, god damnit, Sans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha, tell me what you think! XD
> 
> Also, I've noticed that in the last couple weeks my production on writing has really been slipping, so I'm going to try and pick up the pace a little bit with chapters. Sorry this one took so long, hopefully the next one comes to me faster!


	76. The Break.

Toriel is _not_ happy.

Gaster was quick to get the door when the Queen knocked. When she came in, she saw Frisk and Chara on the floor eating cookies before lunch, still in their pajamas, both of their heads of hair a sleep-inspired mess.

“ _What_. Is. _This_.”

It looks like giving the kids a release from their rigid schedule may have been the wrong move.

Gaster bows and immediately offers an apology. “ **I am sincerely sorry, Your Majesty-** ” he begins, but Toriel forces her way past him into the livingroom. You’re sitting with Sans watching the kids play DOA, his hand an inch from your face offering a bite of his cookie. Her red and yellow eyes are glaring down at you, demanding voice deeper than normal and wavering with rage. Everyone’s frozen at the sight of the Queen.

Frisk is the first person to move. “Mom!” they cheer, climbing to their feet and gripping the fabric of her robe, pressing their face into her side and smooching her loudly. Asriel climbs onto Chara to hide for cover in her hair, before the princess slowly rises to her feet looking to do some damage control.

“Mom,” Chara starts. “Uh, it’s nice to see you! How was your flight?” she asks sweetly, brushing through her hair absently with her fingers.

Sans sets down the cookie and shifts to roll his massive body off of the couch, but you put a hand against his chest and keep him there.

It seems like everyone in the room is suddenly leaping up to defend you.

But you didn’t disobey Toriel’s rigid schedule for no reason.

You stand up from the couch, stepping towards the Queen. You feel _Determined_.

“Your majesty,” you greet, head bowed slightly. “Look… I’m sorry I didn’t stick to your plan for the kids, but-“

Her lips part and her sharp yellow teeth are bared at you. The air gets warmer. Her furry paws at either side are twitching as if she’s ready to throw an attack at you at any second.

“I gave you _specific instructions_ ,” she booms. “You were _not permitted_ to _deviate_ from their schedule of your _own volition_ -“

“But I thought they needed a break.”

Her eyes blink in shock at the brazen interruption. “A… A _break?_ ”

You fold your arms and let out a breath. “I approached Chara about her homework last night, but she reacted with a _lot_ of anger and frustration. I know that, when _I_ was her age, when I got like that it meant that I wouldn’t get _anything_ done. But my parents would force it on me anyways, and I ended up hating school and homework altogether. I just didn’t want Chara to feel the same way.”

“… Right!” Chara pipes up, trying to be supportive. “So we played some video games to de-stress and, uh… Stayed up later than you probably wanted us to… But! After breakfast this morning and the game we just finished, I think I’m… I’m ready to do my homework now,” she admits.

The monster queen looks to her daughter, the tension seemingly draining from her. Then she narrows her eyes at Chara.

“And what of the _sugary junk food_ I saw _you eating_ just now?” Toriel charges. “You _know_ your family history.”

“ _Ugh!_ ” the princess complains, her stance now more animated and aggressive. “I keep telling you, it’s just _one uncle_ because he’s _too fat_ to even _roll_ _himself_ down the street! I _don_ _’t have_ diabetes in my family!”

“It could still happen,” Toriel insists.

“That’s like saying we shouldn’t use _cellphones_ because they _might_ give you _brain cancer!_ ” Chara retorts. “It’s _never_ happened and it’s not _going_ to happen, but there are still some _IDIOTS_ out there who keep telling each other it could to make everyone _paranoid!_ I shouldn’t have to use my _magic_ on you _every single time you serve dessert_ to my brother and Frisk just so _I_ can have some too!”

… _Wow_. Toriel doesn’t let Chara have dessert? No wonder she was so excited to hang out here this weekend.

“Ch-Chara!” Asriel complains from her shoulder.

The princess glances at him and gasps, then quickly wipes her eyes and takes on a more apologetic posture as she looks back to her adoptive mother, wringing her hands in front of herself.

“M-mom, listen, I’m _sorry_ …” she whimpers. “I didn’t mean-“

A furry white paw calmly waves in front of the owner dismissively.

“We will discuss this later,” the regal figure sighs.

“… Okay,” the teen nods, relieved.

“Children,” she addresses, looking down at Frisk as she rests a paw on their head. “Get dressed and your things together. We will be leaving here soon.”

Chara walks over to her mother and hugs her tightly around the waist, looking up at her with a warm grin. “I love you, mom.”

Toriel snorts. “I asked you to do something,” she says, but there’s no malice left in her tone. It’s almost playfully maternal.

“Right,” the princess nods, then stands on her toes and smooches the monster on the snout. Frisk giggles as Toriel bats them both away with their paws, motioning for them to hurry up. “I’m first in the bathroom!” Chara calls out.

“ _Ugh!_ ” Frisk groans. “Don’t take forever with your dumb makeup!” you hear them complain.

With the kids out of the way, the Queen levels her gaze at you again. Her paws clench stiffly at her sides.

“It _seems_ ,” she begins tersely. “That I… Have _learned_ something _new_ about Chara today. _However_ ,” Toriel narrows her eyes at you. “ _That_ does _not_ give you permission to modify _the way I raise my children_. Understood?”

“Yes, Queen Toriel. Understood,” you nod in compliance. “I never meant to try and tell you how to raise your kids. My only intention was to make their stay enjoyable.”

“… I see.”

You’re not entirely sure whether she’s still upset with you or not, but it seems like the conversation is over. For now.

“ **Your Majesty,** ” Gaster interjects after a tense moment of silence. The Queen turns to the tall scientist. “ **While you are waiting for your children, would you perhaps like a cup of tea?** ”

With Toriel no longer glaring daggers at you, you turn to pick up after the kids only to crash into a different skeleton monster.

“ _Sans!?_ ” you shriek, playfully smacking him in the ribs. “Were you right behind me this whole time?!”

He heaves a sigh of relief. “ **wasn** **’t sure what direction that was gunna go. wanted to be ready to** **‘port you outta here if things went sideways.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well at least he has your back XD
> 
> Next chapter, I had planned on exploring Toriel's baggage and character a bit more, but I'm not so sold on it right now and I don't want to keep delaying the dating fluff. So, we'll just see what happens :)


	77. The King.

“Chara, are you done in there yet?” you call out, knocking on the door.

“Just a minute!” she calls back.

“What is taking her so long?” Frisk grumbles beside you, hugging their change of clothes for the day to their chest.

“Do you want to step into Sans’ room to get changed instead?” you offer.

They think on it for a moment. “Why do you still call it _Sans_ _’_ room?” they ask.

“Huh?”

“You live here now, don’t you?” they insist.

Shrugging, you shake your head. “I’m just crashing here until I can get my stuff sorted out,” you answer.

They crook an eyebrow at you curiously, then turn back to look at the bathroom door as it finally opens.

“I’m _ready!_ ” Chara exclaims. Her blue eyes are now red with her contacts in, but that shirt…

You frown. “Do you have a longsleeve shirt?”

“It’s not _that_ cold out,” she complains.

“It’s mid-March, and there’s still snow on the ground,” you counter. “Besides, I’m not sure how your mother’s going to react to her fourteen year-old daughter wearing… _That_.”

It’s a loose spaghetti strap blouse in a deep burgundy colour. Not exactly warm enough for a Canadian winter, even a waning one.

“Ugh! I have a jacket, it’s _fine!_ ” she huffs.

“And was the belt across your torso really necessary?”

“It’s to show that I have _boobs!?_ I’m barely an A-cup, how is anyone supposed to know that I’m a girl without it!?”

Well, now that you think about it, Chara’s _always_ dressed very femininely. She likes her stretch jeans to show off what curves she has, and her tops are always either very fitted or flowing and feminine. You wonder if she’s just androgynous by nature when she’s not wearing makeup or exaggerating her features with her clothing?

“My turn in the bathroom!” Frisk reminds you both.

“Right,” you say, stepping out of their way.

Frisk beams at you before scampering into the bathroom and shutting the door, while Chara moves out of their way and then tries to slip by you. You catch her arm and she groans.

“Come on, I want you to wear the shirt you had on yesterday,” you tell her. “You can change into it in Sans’ room.”

Chara crooks a brow. “Isn’t it your room too?” the princess counters.

You blink. “Hmm?”

She shakes her head. “Nevermind,” she says, then, surprisingly, walks off towards Sans’ bedroom. You hope that means she’s getting changed like you asked.

… What is with these kids this morning?

Shrugging, you head back towards the livingroom to tidy up, only to find that Sans has taken care of most of it already. He’s got their backpacks resting on the couch against the arm closest to the front door, ready to grab for when they leave, and Asriel is on the carpet floor, picking up cookie crumbs in his tiny feathery brown roots. He looks up when you enter and smiles gently at you.

“Oh Azzy, you don’t have to-“ you begin to say.

“ **And how is His Majesty doing in that despicable human prison?** ”

The words die in your throat as you remember that Toriel and Gaster are having tea just around the corner. Sans looks up at you and holds a bony finger over his mouth, suggesting you stay quiet.

Taking a quiet step forward, you can see the back of the Queen’s head as she scoffs. “Same as always, Gaster. He insists that he will dust everyone when he gets out,” she drawls.

“ **I am surprised that they can hold him _at all_ ,**” the scientist observes. “ **Asgore has killed enough humans _already_ to overpower _anyone_ who might challenge him.** ”

“Well,” she chuckles weakly, shoulders sagging a degree with the motion. “So long as they can keep him placated… As… _I,_ can keep him placated… He will not make good on any of his threats. And,” she adds. “There have been several attempts on his life already.”

“ **Is that _true?_** ”

“Of course it is – He’s a _monster_ ,” she snorts derisively. “It seems the human inmates like him less than they do each other. He has been in solitary confinement for months now, the _only_ contact he gets is when he is fed and bathed, and when I go to see him.”

Gaster frowns, hard sockets edged with anger. “ **They treat our _King_ like an _animal_.** ”

“To them, he _is_ one.”

“You don’t have to go see him.”

Sans is behind you to clap a hand over your mouth right as you wonder why the _hell_ you felt the need to _say_ that. You slam your own hands over his as if you can somehow stuff the words right back down your throat. Gaster looks up, surprised at you for eavesdropping, while Toriel…

Toriel looks… _Tired_.

“He is my _husband_ ,” she snaps, teeth bared at the interruption. “I have a _duty_ to him.”

You look up at Sans and he shrugs and lets his hand drop with yours. “I just think… Well, you don’t look too _happy_ about it though,” you observe. “If he’s being nasty to you, you don’t _have_ to go see him, husband or _not_.”

Her furred lips part another degree, before she closes her mouth and sits up straighter. She _seems_ to have calmed down? As if she’s put a couple of pieces of information together and made a private discovery, a thoughtful look crossing her red and yellow eyes. Then she slowly stands from her chair, and your skeleton behind you grips your shoulders tightly for a beat, before relaxing his grip and sliding his warm hands down your arms. Her Majesty takes a couple gentle strides towards you, offering her paw for a handshake.

“Thank you for looking after my children yesterday and this morning,” she nods to you, voice stiff and composed.

“Oh! It’s no problem at all!” you straighten, Sans still at your back. You grip her padded paw gently with both of yours, while her hold is surprisingly delicate. “It’s actually been really fun hanging out with them.”

Toriel nods slowly and then passes by you, heading over to the couch to fetch the backpacks. The two human kids have appeared in the entryway, pulling on their coats and winter boots. Thankfully, it looks like Chara has changed into her shirt from yesterday. The queen snorts, amused at seeing her wear it twice, then rustles the princess’ hair much to her ire. She whines and flinches away, trying to brush it back out with her fingers. Asriel has climbed his way up Frisk’s sleeve and is perched happily on top of their messy head.

Sans finally releases you, tapping you on the ass encouragingly to say goodbye to the kids. You turn and swat at him as he cackles. Heading over to the entryway, Frisk eagerly falls into a hug around your waist. You rustle their hair and they giggle as Azzy pretends like he’s going to fall off, then you give the prince a gentle pat on his floral head. The lanky teen shrugs, approaching you for a hug too, but when you hold up a hand to muss up her hair she quickly leans back.

“ _Don_ _’t_ ,” she scolds, pointing a finger accusingly in your face.

“Okay, princess,” you relent.

She smirks as she steps back to her mother.

“Ah, I did not manage to get to a bank for your payment today,” Toriel notes. “I will have to come another day to drop it off.”

“That’s okay!” you forgive easily. “I’m not desperate, so come by anytime.”

“We had _lots_ of fun!” Frisk cheers.

“I hope you guys can come back sometime soon!” you agree, smiling.

Toriel’s looking at you softly, idly mussing with Frisk’s hair again. The tiny ambassador looks up at their mom with pleading eyes, and the Queen snorts.

“We will see,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before, but I'll say it again: Asgore's an asshole in this, so he won't feature and will only be spoken about in passing like this.
> 
> Next chapter is planned to be adult talk and makeout fluff, so prepare your bodies XD Not sure when it'll be done though, I'm trying to sell my house!


	78. The Chat.

He sits on the edge of the bed ahead of you, and much to his delight you smirk and swing your legs over his to straddle him. His hands immediately slide up the back of your shirt to savour the softness of your skin as you start kissing him again.

A big guy like Sans, and a Lustful one at that – He’s pretty used to being the one in control of the bedroom. But it’s a rare treasure when someone wants to flip the tables on him, dominate _him_ , and he’s _more_ than happy to let the reins go.

But…

He sighs against your mouth as he moves to hold each of your wrists gently on either side of you. You stop and pull away, confused why he’s pumping the brakes on you now.

“ **can we jus** **’ chat for a minute?** ” he asks.

“… Yeah. I mean, of course.”

He grins at you, giving you one last sharp peck on the mouth before shifting to sit at the head of the bed, back resting against the wall. He opens his arms out for you and you oblige, crawling over to sit against him, comfortably cradled by his warm body as he wraps himself around you.

“ **so** **…** ”

“So…” you mimic.

“ **well** **… this is kinda sudden,** ” he notes aloud. “ **i mean, i ain** **’t complainin** **’ for one second sweetheart, just** **… i wanna know where your brain is at.** ”

Well, it’s a fair question. “I was just…” you trail off, trying to put the words together. “This morning, I was thinking… You’ve always _been_ there for me, seen me at my literal _worst_ , and you’re… You’re _still here_. I’ve never really had anyone like that, you know? Never known someone so selfless.”

“ **is that all?** ”

It’s not a challenge, just a question. He genuinely just wants to know. He wants to know that, this? Having you in his arms, kissing you on his bed, that this is _real_. That this isn’t going to be over tomorrow, or even ten minutes from now. Sans has his own insecurities to work through, and he just wants to get everything out on the table so he knows exactly what he’s looking at.

It feels like a dream come true. And he’s already discretely sent bone attacks at himself a dozen times this morning because he’s _still_ not sure that he’s not dreaming. It’s too surreal.

You shift in his arms to put a hand against his hard chest, stretching your neck out to kiss him on his jaw. “Of _course_ that’s not all,” you reassure. “It also made me think, ‘who do I call when I’m in a bind?’ ‘Who’s always looking out for me?’ ‘Who can I trust the most?’ And I realized that, there’s a _reason_ _why_ the answer to all of those questions was _Sans_.”

He heaves another sigh, this one of relief, then gasps as you slap your own forehead out of the blue. “ **sweet-?** ”

“ _God,_ I’m such an _idiot_ ,” you curse yourself. “There I was getting all _fired up_ about _Grillby_ that I couldn’t see something good staring me _right in the face_.”

Sans snorts at your excellent word choice there.

“You must’ve been pretty pissed off at me,” you grumble.

“ ** _hey,_** ” he says, smoothing his hand against your back, stroking up and down your soft skin. “ **if anything, i was pissed off at _grillby_ , not at you.**”

“But I was even _obsessing_ over him _right in front_ of you,” you complain.

He shrugs. “ **so?** ”

“What do you mean, ‘ _so_ ’?”

“ **i mean, so _what?_ it** **’s not like i was _savin_** ** _’_ m** **’self for you or anything,** ” he points out. “ **you** **’re allowed to date whoever you want, sweetheart. err, obviously i** **’d prefer if it was _me_ , though,**” he adds with a wink.

“Really?” you ask. “You had a girlfriend that whole time?” Oh no, you haven’t just wrecked things for him, have you?

“ **not a girlfriend,** ” he corrects, skull beading in sweat. “ **uh, not _exactly_.** ”

“Then who?”

“ **uhhh** **…** ” This isn’t exactly what he had in mind for this conversation. His previous exploits, and his previous self before he’d met you, are not things he’s entirely proud of anymore. Should he be honest? Or should he try and change the subject? He doubts you’d react to hearing about his prolific sex life very positively.

“Nevermind,” you reconsider sheepishly. “You don’t have to answer that. Sorry I pried.”

You have _no idea_ how glad he is that you let him off the hook so easily.

“… Are you sure you want me?”

“ **the hell kinda question is _that?_** ”

He spits it out venomously, moreso than he’d intended. You jolt in his arms briefly and he curses himself out for it, holding you a degree tighter to discourage you running from him. Not now. Not now that he’s got you. Not after the months of bullshit you’ve been through together.

“Sans, I’m sorry,” you apologize reflexively. He snorts at that.

“ **got nothin** **’ to be sorry about,** ” he purrs.

“Yes I do!” you retort. “I’m- I’ve got nothing to offer you, okay? Without you taking me in I’m homeless, jobless, and just... _Living_ off of you. Besides that, I’m a shitty, selfish, and bitter person with trust issues up the a-“

He cuts you off by running his slimy red tongue up and down your neck.

“Guhh- _Sans!_ ” you shudder.

“ **no more talkin** **’ like that, sweetheart,** ” he rumbles, stroking your bare sides with his large mitts. “ **you got everythin** **’ i want and need. i ain** **’t gunna let you talk like you** **’re not worth it. hell, i** **’m still stuck tryin** **’ to figure out how the hell i deserve you.** ”

“That makes two of us,” you huff.

He snorts at that, amused, then hums contentedly into your hair, running a hand up and down your bare side under your shirt. It’s very comfortable to just sit like this, to relax and be held by him. Sans always makes you feel so safe.

“The kids were behaving really weirdly this morning,” you finally point out, interrupting the comfortable silence with some small talk.

“ **how so?** ”

“Both of them asked me why I still call it _your_ room.”

“ **well, why do you?** ”

You turn in his arms to shoot him a quizzical glance. “Because it _is?!_ ”

He just shrugs. “ **so? you sleep here. you** **’ve been sleeping here over a month now, _____. call it your room if you want.** ”

“That doesn’t mean it’s stopped being _your room._ ”

“ **why, are you leavin** **’ or something?** ”

“No, I just-“

Just then, Sans rolls his massive body forward to flop on top of you, pinning you to the bed.

“ **nope.** ”

“Augh! Sans! _Whyyyy._ ”

He shifts to get his hard skull nestled between your breasts.

“ **just nope.** ”

“Sans!”

“ **hey, this is kinda comfy,** ” he chuckles.

You push at his shoulders. “Oh my god, you are _so_ much heavier than you look!”

“ **go figure, i** **’m a pretty bony guy.** ”

“ _Sannnns!_ ”

“ **i might even take a nap.** ”

“You are _still_ the _worst_ and you’re _crushing me!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I take forever with updates now here have some cute AF Underfell makeout and bonding fluff *rolls away and covers self with a blanket to resume hiding from the world*


	79. The Phone.

“What the hell _happened_ to your phone, anyways?”

Sans looks at the crumpled mess of his former phone on the counter, shrugging nonchalantly.

“ **i broke it,** ” he replies.

“ _How?!_ ” you demand to know. “Did you put it through a woodchipper and _then_ a blender?”

It was in at least a hundred different pieces of glass, plastic, and circuit boards. The battery was folded over on itself and leaking, the outside frame was bent and broken all over, and the touchscreen was so thoroughly shattered that there was no way to be able to tell which part went where even with a thousand years’ time and the patience of a hundred monks. About the only things that survived were the SIM card for his phone settings, and the SD card for his photos, and that was only because they were under the battery in a central location.

“ **i dunno,** ” he smirks.

He had been so pissed at his dad when he got your call that it seemed like a perfectly rational thing to do. Well, at the _time_.

“Well, a new one is going to cost you at least a couple hundred bucks. Are you okay with that?” you inquire.

“ **s’not a big deal, sweetheart,** ” he nudges you. “ **at least, it wouldn’t be if i could get somebody to ring me up a new one,** ” he adds with a grumble.

You look up from the display counter of all the phones he’s been fiddling with for the past ten minutes. There are a couple of store associates hanging around, but they’ve all been hanging around behind the counter talking quietly to each other instead of coming out to offer their help. It’s not even busy, it’s still early afternoon on a Sunday.

It’s obviously because he’s a monster. They do this shit on commission, what other reason could there be for them to be blatantly ignoring a customer?

“Let me grab one of them,” you offer.

“ **you sure?** ” You _did_ walk in here with him. Are they even going to listen to you?

“Yeah. I got this,” you insist.

You pat his hand and then turn to whisk away over to the counter, smiling brightly at one of the young guys standing there – a blond guy with shaggy hair in a blue polo shirt. He can see his soul of Passion flutter at your sudden attention, brown eyes looking apprehensively between you, him, and the backs of his coworkers who have suddenly found something better to do in the back room. You flick your hair to one side and his eyes land on you again, captivated by that simple idle gesture.

Sans realizes he’s been gripping the display phone tighter than intended, deciding it’d probably be enough to get himself kicked out if he crushed _that_ one with his bare hands too. Fortunately, he doesn’t see any damage when he pulls his mitts away. He swipes the remnants of the old phone back into the plastic shopping bag, deciding to join you at the counter.

He’s never been jealous before. Well, never had justification for jealousy, anyways. In spite of all the monsters he’s been with, and humans since coming up to the surface, he’s never had a steady relationship… A girlfriend.

Well, there _was_ that one snow bunny chick, but he’s smart enough to know even that wasn’t a _real_ _relationship_. Undyne too, he supposes, but they were better as pals than as a couple. But, _besides_ them… He’s _still_ not sure if this is real. If he deserves this, deserves _you_.

So when he gets to the counter his expression is a mix of defensive, and sheepish.

“… So we managed to salvage the SD and SIM cards from his old phone, and just need to buy a new device,” you continue your explanation, this human guy hanging on to your every word, obviously trying to ignore the monster now standing next to you. Sans scoffs. Your overwhelming Presence stat makes it so easy for you to charm anybody, and this random human guy with a soul of Passion is no exception.

“… Does he already have a monthly plan?” the sales clerk mumbles out.

“ **yes he does,** ” Sans snorts, and the guy practically jumps out of his skin. On second thought, is it even worth feeling threatened by this guy?

“Well…” he struggles, glancing at the nearly seven-foot tall skeleton monster beside you. “We have an iPhone that he- _you_ might like, um, sir.”

“Ugh,” you scoff. “Don’t get an iPhone.”

Sans looks at you. “ **why not? sounds like it’s fancy.** ”

“It’s an overpriced marketing scheme is what it is,” you explain. “Apple markets exclusivity with their products, focusing on user experience but _not_ actual technology. Having an iPhone makes you a sucker.”

“ **well, how much is the new one?** ” he quirks a brow at the sales guy.

“If you’re getting it with a new monthly plan-“

“He’s not,” you shake your head.

“… Then it’s seven ninety-nine before tax.”

“ **… you mean it’s eight dollars, or eight _hundred?_** ”

“Do you really need to ask?” you smirk.

“ **fucking hell, thing better be made of solid gold.** ”

“It’s not. Also,” you add. “I’ve read online that some of them bend really easily from usage, or the screens break when falling from only a couple feet of height, so they’re very fragile.”

“ **considerin’ the state of my _last_ phone, that ain’t going to work for me,** ” Sans agrees.

“Told you.”

“Well… What about the Blackberry model we have on display?” sales guy offers, tapping the clear display case in front of him with all sorts of brightly coloured signs surrounding a phone.

“ **hey, sweet,** ” the skeleton points at it. “ **says it’s zero bucks. i’ll take that one.** ”

“Um-“

“That’s only with an expensive monthly plan,” you interrupt, pointing at some smaller text near the bottom of the sign. “See? It’ll cost you a hundred and ten bucks a month for two years to get that phone.”

“ **… that’s… yeah, nevermind,** ” he shrugs.

“What about a Note?” you suggest.

“ **i thought i was buying a phone today,** ” he says, mildly confused.

“No, no- You know that big phone over on the display table you liked? That’s the Samsung Galaxy Note. It’s got a much bigger screen than most phones so I think it’ll work well for your giant monster hands,” you grin, looking down at your own phone and tapping away at the screen. “Plus I find that Samsung phones are pretty durable. We can get a warranty and an inexpensive case for it to protect it from falls as a backup.”

“The new one you’d have to preorder,” the sales guy chimes in. “And if you’re not getting a plan…”

“But what about the old model?” you interject.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we have that in stock…”

“Yes you do,” you assert.

“No, I’m pretty sure we don’t.”

“Then why does your website say you have eight of them?”

“Oh…” he stammers. “Must be a shipment coming in…”

“Really? But it says inventory totals are up to date to the last hour.”

Sans stifles a laugh as the sales guy shuffles from one foot to the other. “… Okay, I guess I could check…”

“Make sure you grab the sixteen gigabyte model! The one on clearance,” you remind him, flashing sales guy a sweet smile.

As soon as the other human’s out of sight, Sans bumps you with his elbow.

“ _What?_ ” you grin innocently.

“ **you sure know your phones, huh?** ”

“Ehh, sorry I kind of took over there,” you apologize, flustering. “I just want to make sure you get a good phone, and one that won’t break the bank.”

He shakes his head, dismissing your apology and pinching your cheek between two hard phalanges. “ **you’re such a geek,** ” he praises you. “ **it’s fuckin’ cute.** ”

“Never heard you say the word cute before,” you point out, swatting his hand away playfully.

“ **first time for everythin’, sweetheart,** ” he shrugs.

When sales guy comes back, you argue with him to give Sans the sale price you found online, not the regular price he tries to punch in. After the phone is turned on and confirmed working, his cards are swapped over, and hundreds of dollars are spent, you’ve decided to carry the bag for him as you walk alongside him through the rest of the mall, beaming with pride over out-nerding the sales guy. It’s _really_ fucking _cute_.

“Sans,” you say as you both pass a chain book store.

“ **hmm?** ”

You grab the sleeve of his jacket and he stops in his tracks. “Get your hand out of your pocket for a sec.”

He does as he’s told, holding his bony palm up for you. “ **okay?** ”

You shift the bag with all the crap for his new phone to your opposite hand, then take his in yours to hold. Your fleshy human hand is so soft and warm, dwarfed by his giant mitts.

“ _Now_ we’re good,” you smile, then move to start walking again.

“ **hey- uh, hang on a sec,** ” he stops you, feet frozen in place.

He stares down at your clasped hands together in confusion, already feeling the hot glares from dozens of bystanders on his back.

“ **are… you sure about this, _____?** ” he asks, uncertain.

Monsters and humans don’t go together, _period_. The fact that you’ve already had so much shit thrown at you just for hanging out with him, from the near-fight at your school to verbally bashing your ex to you even nearly getting kidnapped, gives him a great deal of pause. And you don’t even know about the monster hunting group he’s been knocking skulls with over the last two months. More than a handful of monsters have been dusted since coming to the surface just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the ones that tried to build relationships with humans? That usually ends with not only dust but dead humans, as well.

You smooth your thumb along the side of his hand, stepping into him and standing on your toes to kiss his cheekbone. His face floods with magic at the gesture, still very aware of the very public situation. He can’t help but look away to see who’s watching. Your other hand with the bag looped around your wrist comes up to redirect him to look back at you.

You look… Determined.

“ _Screw_ them, they don’t matter,” you tell him softly, squeezing his hand in yours a degree tighter. “I don’t want to hide my feelings for you.”

“ **someone could get hurt if we’re all public an’ shit.** ” _You_ could get hurt.

“I know you’ll protect me. I trust you,” you grin. “Besides, I’m not _completely_ defenseless.”

He raises a brow bone at that, a smirk pulling at the side of his sharp maw. “ **is that right?** ”

“I mean, of course!” you puff up, letting him go to lazily shadow box the air in front of you. “I’m not like, super _strong_ like you, but I can punch and kick like anybody else!”

Sans chuckles at that, his magic in his bones begin to settle back down. “ **oh really?** ” he challenges. “ **maybe sometime you’ll have to show me your moves.** ”

“Ehh, maybe,” you consider pensively, seizing his hand in yours again as you both continue walking towards the food court. “Maybe when we get back to your bedroom I’ll show you my _special_ attack,” you whisper seductively.

He trips over his own feet as his magic floods his skull again in a hurry. He jerks his gaze over to you as you laugh at his flustered response.

“ **f-fucking _hell_ ,**” he growls heatedly, a large amount of magic speeding towards his pelvis too. “ **sweetheart, if you wanna skip lunch maybe we can-** “

“ **OH FOR _FUCK’S_ _SAKE_ , _SANS_.** ”

Sans sighs. There’s nothing on the surface or below it that kills his boner faster than the shrieking voice of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha, found some of my writing groove recently, so have some mall date fluff :P
> 
> Can you guess what's coming next chapter? If you follow my Tumblr, then you might already have an idea :) I meant to put it to a vote last chapter, but I think it would've just been an overwhelming yes anyways :P
> 
> (... Also yes I am a bit of a phone snob, Samsung for life.)


	80. The Arcade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehh, we were going to visit the arcade at some point, lol. In this stupid long chapter (3849 words _h o w_ ) Mettaton steals the show :P

You both look up at the two monsters in front of you, curious at the display. The Great and Terrible Papyrus, Captain of the Royal Guard, is… Carrying what looks like half a tonne’s worth of shopping bags in one hand, with a Mean Cream gripped in his other that he’s been carefully working through.

And on the right of him is a familiar robotic YouTube star.

… Wearing a giant purple pimp hat, ostrich feather and all. Did they hit up a gag shop?

“Mettaton! How’ve you been?” you beam up at him. “I see you’re lacking more appendages than usual.”

He raises his two remaining arms – the upper pair, you notice – in an elegant shrug, then returns his hands to stroking the sides of the pink feather boa draped loosely around his shoulders. “I thought it might help my aesthetic appeal to get rid of any extraneous features, darling,” he purrs. “Doctor Alphys removed them for me last maintenance day.”

That’s right, he’s told you before that the four arms were to inspire fear in the Underground. So, now he’s trying to look more human in order to avoid scaring anyone? Where did this character development come from?

“You’ve still got four eyes,” you point out thoughtfully. “Are you going to get those taken down to two as well?”

“Ah, no, I don’t believe so,” he replies with a flick of his wiry hair. “Alphys said she would have to redesign all of the internal circuitry and mold a new silicon faceplate to make that work.”

“Sounds like that would take a lot of time,” you hum understandingly.

“ **an’ what are you doing here, boss?** ” Sans chimes in, looking up at his taller brother. Translucent pink sweat seems to dot his skull instantly. You grip his hand a little tighter, reminding him that you’re there. If you have to jump in between the brothers again, so fucking _be_ it.

Papyrus’ face floods with red magic instantly, straightening his posture to leverage his eight feet of height. “ **METTATON SUGGESTED WE HOLD A BUSINESS MEETING ON MY DAY OFF,** ” he mutters. “ **TELL ME YOU ARE NOT _FRATERNIZING_ WITH THE HUMAN SO PUBLICLY,** ” he groans.

“Fraternizing we _are_ ,” you grin. “So! _Business_ meeting, huh?” you hum knowingly as the robot bats four sets of metal eyelashes, pretending to be the picture of innocence. “And you decided to go clothes shopping on the way?” you inquire, leaning over to read the various brand names on the bags.

“Oh! Those are _mine_ , actually,” the robot confesses. “Papyrus was being a dear offering to carry them for me, _weren’t_ you darling?” he coos.

He reaches a wiry metal arm to wrap around the spikey armoured shoulders of the Captain, but the intimidating skeleton sidesteps the advance as if he’s dodging an attack. Mettaton pouts at that.

“ **OF- OF _COURSE_ I DID,** ” Papyrus spits defensively, gaunt cheekbones stop sign red. “ **YOU RECENTLY DOWNGRADED YOUR CARRYING CAPACITY WITH THE REMOVAL OF YOUR OTHER TWO ARMS, SO IT MADE SENSE FOR ME TO PICK UP THE SLACK.** ”

“Hmm? You thought I was _slacking?_ ” the metal man challenges.

Papyrus startles. “ **WHA- _NO!_ I MERELY MEANT-** “

You roll your eyes and clear your throat, bringing the attention of both the other two monsters to yourself. As entertaining as it is to watch Mettaton fluster the daylights out of the Captain, you figure you need a small break from watching their foreplay.

“Where are you guys off to after this?” you ask.

“ **WHEREVER ISN’T WHERE _YOU_ ARE,** ” Papyrus accuses, narrowing his eye sockets down at you bitterly. “ **I SEIZED THE OPPORTUNITY TO LEAVE THE APARTMENT BECAUSE _YOU_ WERE THERE, ALTHOUGH I SUPPOSE IF YOU ARE _GALAVANTING AROUND_ WITH MY _BROTHER_ OUTDOORS, I MAY AS WELL RETURN HOME.** ”

“Oh, come _off_ it, Papyrus darling,” the metrosexual robot man purrs. “In fact, I was just about to ask for _____’s assistance in recording my next video.”

“ **YOU _WERE?_** ” Papyrus asks, surprised that the metal superstar wants anything further to do with you.

“You _were?_ ” you repeat, surprised yourself. He hasn’t really needed your help with anything YouTube-related since you showed him how to check his e-mail and edit his own videos. He’s bought a new computer since and everything.

“Of course!” he exclaims giddily, gripping an end of the feather boa and twirling it contemplatively. “If I’m to include the good Captain here in my show, then I’ll need an extra set of hands to hold a camera again. And, though it _hardly_ warrants repeating, it seems I am down said pair of hands as of late.”

Papyrus balks as he glances between the monster beside him, and scowls down at you. He seems to be working out whether he wants anything to do with you today or not.

And honestly, you’re not too interested in making your outing with Sans a double date today. _Especially_ if that date includes _Papyrus,_ in _any_ capacity.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, turning to Mettaton.

He seems delighted that you’re interested, clapping his hands together sharply enough that the oversized plush pimp hat on his head shifts to one side and nearly falls off. He catches it in one hand and slides his fingers along the rim.

“I want to continue my little series on monsters doing everyday things, and as it happens there is a particular activity that I have in mind,” he promises.

 

* * *

“… DDR?”

Okay, you can’t miss this for the _world_.

Mettaton exudes excitement once he leads your group to the small movie theatre arcade. The Dance Dance Revolution machine is occupied by some teenagers, but the metal man seems to already have an understanding of the customs associated with the activity, having placed a token on the machine in turn order. There are people sneaking glances of shock, suspicion, and hostility from every direction at the spectacle, but between yourself and the three tall monsters around you, no one’s actually said or done anything to make you feel unwelcome.

Sans is still holding your hand at your side, sending you a comforting squeeze of his own. You know he’s not completely alright with being out in public like this, but the longer this can last, the longer it should. People might be staring, but at least no one’s said anything nasty to you yet. Gotta love that Canadian passive-aggression.

“ **THIS ‘MEETING’ HAS TAKEN FAR _LONGER_ THAN I HAD ANTICIPATED,** ” the Captain mutters sourly.

“Would you indulge me a few minutes more, good Captain?” the robot purrs.

Papyrus snorts and rolls his head as if he’s rolling his eyes at the thought. He’s not enthused, but he’s not jumping on the next bus home, either.

“Why DDR, anyways?” you have to ask.

“Doctor Alphys made the request,” he beams.

“Alphys? Really?”

He nods, pimp hat tilting forward abruptly and his hand coming up to straighten it. “She saw it in one of her shows and was interested in seeing it done for real.”

“… Huh.” You had no idea she was into anime that _didn’t_ have humans dying left right and center.

The couple of teens on the machine finish up their round, so Mettaton proudly steps forward to claim his turn. You head over with him to talk him through the menus, his stomps against the pads too delicate at first for the machine to pick up, but then he quickly gets the hang of it. Suddenly his metal feet clunking against the glass pads seems a bit loud, and you begin to worry about the durability of the machine. Is it going to hold up under his enthusiastic dancing?

You wind up putting more tokens in to start up the second player in order to show him personally how to operate it, and then you put him through Beginner mode to get him used to it. Mettaton takes to the game with gusto, scoring near-perfect on the easiest setting possible. He even starts interpreting the arrows coming up on screen as opportunities for advanced moves, doing little spins and turns on the crowded game pad next to you. You burst out laughing at one point and miss a couple steps on your side, distracted by the pink feather boa that suddenly flies into your face. It actually causes you to start sneezing, and you have to grab the bar for support, missing even more steps. At the end of it, he’s S-rank while you’ve barely scored a B on Light. For his first time with the game, he seems very pleased with himself. You, on the other hand, have no idea how he managed to keep that giant pimp hat on his head the entire time.

“Double-step on the front arrow to increase your difficulty next song,” you tell him.

Then you get an idea. You turn around to lean on the bar, looking out at your two skeleton observers.

They’re not the only audience that has gathered, though. It seems like people want to watch monsters play DDR for the first time. Well, that just proves that this is a good video idea, doesn’t it?

“Hey Captain, would you like to try?” you salute to Papyrus.

Four red and yellow eyes land on you accusingly, silicon lips upturning into a grin.

Papyrus’ eye sockets narrow suspiciously at you. “ ** _SANS_ , WHY DOES YOUR HUMAN THINK SHE HAS THE RIGHT TO ADDRESS _ME?_** ” he scowls.

“ **she jus’ asked you a question, boss,** ” he grumbles.

“Come _onnn_ ,” you whine. “ _Someone’s_ got to hold a camera on Mettaton for his video, and weren’t you supposed to be in the video with him?”

“I would be _delighted_ , good sir Papyrus, if you would care to join me,” he beckons, bowing.

Papyrus stiffens, his stubborn resolve getting the better of him while his cheekbones betray him by glowing bright red. “ ** _N O,_** ” he seethes.

“Oh well,” you shrug, looking up at the robot and winking. “I guess you’re just not up to the challenge, then. Mettaton, what song do you want to try next?” you ask, tapping him on the arm and redirecting him to the game. “There’s a timer ticking down, so we’d better pick something quickly.”

“Hmm, is there something faster-?”

Before you can respond, there’s an angry shuffling of plastic and tissue paper getting thrown to the side and then two gloved hands pick you up by your shoulders to move you to the side. Papyrus sets you down on the ground with a huff, his perma-scowl bearing down on you as he takes over your position on the game pad. He stares you down as he removes his gloves and sets them to the side, obviously having soiled them from having to forcibly move the human in the group. You just flash him a smile, then move around him to Mettaton so you can relieve him of his pimp hat and feather boa.

Walking over to Sans, you find that he’s been begrudgingly collecting the scattered shopping bags his brother threw around. You start to help him and he hacks a laugh at the pimp hat on your head, then immediately relieves you of it to wear for himself. Throwing the boa over your shoulder, you bring up your cellphone camera and get ready to record.

Once you have the video recording, Sans slides his hand in yours again and leans down to whisper into your ear. You gladly let him, expecting something flirty.

“ **don’t just… casually manipulate papyrus like that, alright?** ” he rumbles.

You startle and look up at his hard face.

That… Is _exactly_ what you just did, isn’t it?

“… _Oh my god_ ,” you gasp. “I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head and gives your hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at you warmly. “ **i know you didn’t mean nothin’ bad by it, so don’t worry about it, sweetheart. i just see enough of that shit between him and gaster, so i’d ‘preciate it if you didn’t start doin’ it too.** ”

Ugh, you feel gross. Not only did you feel guilty already for it, but he just compared your actions to _Gaster_. Your stomach twists into knots as you look back at your phone for the camera.

Just before you can press record, he gently shakes you by the arm to look at him again.

“ **i said not to worry ‘bout it,** ” Sans insists.

“… I wasn’t,” you fumble.

“ **liar. it’s written all over your face.** ”

You shift your gaze back to your phone, frowning. “… I want to apologize to your brother later. Do you think you could help me with that?”

“ **heh,** ” he grins. “ **i don’t think he even noticed, but if you wanna say somethin’ anyway, then sure.** ”

“… Alright,” you smile weakly, leaning into his side.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, knocking the feather boa around, and pulls you into him, nuzzling into your hair.

“ **you’re cute as shit.** ”

You hum happily in his embrace, glad for the small dose of intimacy chasing your feelings of guilt away.

Remembering that you’re here to do something, you focus your phone’s camera on the backs of the two tall monsters currently cutting it up on the DDR machine. They’re partway through their second song already, so you keep it recording through their selection of the next song, talking quietly to each other as they listen to samples. There are a couple of human teenagers at the side who seem irritated by the monsters using the machine, but they haven’t done anything. Yet.

“Oh god. They just picked Max 300,” you laugh.

“ **what’s max 300?** ”

“It’s just a really fast song with a lot of steps. It’s pretty difficult,” you explain.

Well, they might be fine on Light. They are _killing_ it up there, after all. Papyrus has figured out the game pretty well, and he even scored slightly higher than Mettaton last round.

The teens waiting along the sidelines start making snide comments to each other, though you can’t actually hear them over the pounding music. You can tell by their faces and body language that whatever they’re saying isn’t pretty, though. The guy is saying something to the girl next to him, and she’s holding a hand up over her mouth laughing. Since they happen to be standing on Mettaton’s side of the machine, you decide to focus the camera more on him to get them into the frame. If he wants to, he knows how to blur their faces or even cut them out of the video later, but for now you just want to start gathering evidence before something happens. They don’t even seem to realize that you’re even there.

And just as you suspected, just after the slower section in the middle of the song, the human guy sweeps his leg out, catching Mettaton’s ankle with his.

Being made mostly of metal, the monster gasps as he quickly loses his balance and topples over.

Right on top of Papyrus.

Sans’ presence at your side vanishes abruptly as you jog over to the collapsed monsters, the teens beginning to laugh at the fallen monsters, then gasp as your boyfriend reappears in front of them, cutting them off from the collapsed dancers. Papyrus’ reflexes allowed him to catch his idol in his arms and cushion his fall, but his own skull and spine hit the side of the pad at a bad angle, and you worry about any damage he might’ve taken. He’s not wearing his armour today, presumably because it’s his day off.

Mettaton climbs up off of Papyrus’ chest, four robotic eyes looking down at the taller monster in horror.

“Is everyone okay?!” you blurt out, keeping your phone at the ready.

Everyone got really quiet. Sans keeping himself in the way of the humans, Papyrus’ skull red as he’s at a loss for complaints for once, and Mettaton stunned to silence. It feels like the only sound in the room is the idle screen music for the DDR machine.

“That…” the robot superstar stammers. “That… _Hurt_.”

Then he rolls onto his back and bursts out laughing.

“That _hurt!_ ” he continues giggling.

A little perplexed at the metal man’s reaction to getting tripped, you decide to offer a hand down to Papyrus, but he swats it away and picks himself up. Glad he’s not hurt, then. You’ve clearly misjudged a few things about their relationship, so it seems like Sans might’ve had a fit if he’d been injured.

You offer a hand to Mettaton next and he grips it with enthusiasm, pulling himself to his feet with a renewed energy. He wraps himself around you and squeezes you until you almost can’t breathe, laughing uproariously. You struggle a bit to get him to loosen up, but then you realize something.

He’s _warm_.

 _Wait_ , did he…?!

Sans has turned around so he’s scowling at the metal man instead now. Mettaton lets you go, but only to shove all his fingers into your hair unceremoniously and mess it all up. You jerk away and try to brush it through with your fingers to fix it, and he mercifully decides to try the same with his own hair instead of continuing with yours. As he does it, it almost seems softer than before. Less like metal wires sticking out of his head, more like _actual hair_.

“ **the fuck is wrong with this guy _now?_** ” Sans asks bitterly.

You can’t really blame Sans for being irritated. Mettaton _is_ acting a little crazy right now. You shake your head, smiling knowingly.

Papyrus has picked himself up and dusted himself off, now standing at his full eight feet of height. He’s already grabbed his gloves off the side of the machine and put them back on. “ **METTATON, ARE YOU INJURED?** ” he asks hoarsely. With the Captain it’s hard to tell whether that’s genuine concern or just a detached assessment of facts.

“I’ve _never_ been _better_ , darling, honestly,” he purrs deeply, looking over Papyrus with a new fascination. The skeleton’s cheekbones turn crimson at his inspection, crossing his arms over his body and shifting a foot behind him in some defensive stance.

“ **… FINE THEN,** ” the skeleton grumbles. “ **THEN, WHAT OF HE HUMANS WHO ATTACKED YOU?** ”

“ **i got ‘em covered,** ” Sans offers.

“And I caught ‘em on video tripping Mettaton,” you happily add.

“… _What?!_ ”

That particular protest came from the teens in question, the guy turning red at the fact that his whole stunt was caught on camera. He tries to get past Sans to grab your phone from you, but you keep it on him and Sans keeps him away with nothing but a pointed glare.

“ _Delete_ that!” he howls, suddenly upset about being recorded.

“Mm, naw, I don’t think so,” you chuckle.

“I didn’t say you could record me! _Stop it!_ ” He backs up from Sans and pulls his shirt up over his face. The girl at his side squeaks and steps behind him to get out of frame.

“Well maybe you should’ve thought of that before attacking a monster with over twenty-thousand YouTube subscribers. Most of ‘em local,” you taunt. “Whole reason we came here today was to record him playing DDR, but you decided to step into the limelight all on your own by tripping him.”

Even with idiot’s shirt in the way, you can tell how pale he just got.

Mettaton strides over to the human, resting a hand on Sans’ shoulder so he’ll step out of the way. He might not be as tall as Papyrus and is only slightly taller than Sans, but he still _towers_ over anyone under six feet tall.

“On my honour as an artist, your faces will not be visible in any part of the video,” he hums evenly. “However, I _will_ be retaining the original copy as evidence to show to the proper authorities.”

From what you can see of the guy’s eyes, he’s scowling pretty hard underneath the neck of his t-shirt.

“And what’s that going to do, _monster?_ Everyone knows cops don’t give a shit about your kind. You should’ve stayed in hell where you all came from.”

You grit your teeth in response, but Sans grabs your hand and squeezes your fingers to hold you back. He’s baring his own set of sharp, pointed shark teeth, so maybe he’s using your closeness to hold _himself_ back, as well. You give him a reassuring squeeze of your own.

“Well, _I_ like to think that art speaks for _itself_.”

That’s right – the video pretty clearly shows who’s at fault, as Mettaton was too busy dancing to be doing anything to antagonize him. Once the guy realizes there’s no way he can win this, he finally leaves and you stop the recording.

After the drama is over with that racist asshole gone, a few other bystanders cautiously approach him to ask him if he’s okay and for autographs. Nearly all of them are humans, you notice, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as he casually interacts with his fans. It gives you a bit more hope for the future of humans and monsters.

“I’ll get that video to you as soon as we hit home,” you tell him.

“Of _course_ , darling – no hurry,” he coos. Then he quirks an eyebrow thoughtfully before placing his finger against your lips. He pushes gently at the skin of them before you get weirded out and swat his hand away. “Those are _softer_ than they were last time,” he muses idly.

“ **… _last_ time?** ”

Then Mettaton claps his hands together noisily, cutting off any response to Sans’ inquiry, turning back to the stalwart skeleton Captain waiting patiently on the sidelines. He’s taken control of all of the shopping bags once again, feather boa tucked into one and the purple pimp hat clutched against the outermost bag of the bunch.

“Good Captain Papyrus, can I engage you for _just_ a little while longer?” he purrs.

“ **WHAT IS IT _NOW?_** ” he complains instantly.

“I would like to have dinner shortly, and I still need your generous assistance,” Mettaton negotiates charmingly. Sans sighs at your side, and you have a feeling you know why. At least Mettaton’s harmless.

“ **BUT- _UGH!_ YOU DIDN’T EVEN _EAT_ LUNCH!** ”

“And I _sorely_ regret it, as I’m utterly _famished_ by now!”

With an exaggerated roll of his empty eye sockets, he makes a begrudging snort of acceptance. “ **AND I SUPPOSE _SANS_ AND HIS _HUMAN_ WILL BE JOINING US FOR DINNER, TOO?** ” he charges unhappily.

“Actually, I think we’ll be going home, now. You two have fun,” you endorse.

“Ah! But _____,” the robot stops you. “If you are leaving, then could you offer us any recommendations for where to eat before you go?”

“Hmm… There’s a chain steakhouse across the parking lot that’s not too bad.”

“Monster friendly?”

Oh, right. _Obviously_ that’s a thing. “… I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “But, if you tell them about your YouTube fame maybe they’ll be nicer to you. Call it a review show or something.”

“ _Perfect!_ ” he beams.

And with that, the four of you finally parted ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha, it's a bit vague intentionally as to what the heck's happened to Mettaton, but if you remember the chapter where he explains it then you've probably figured it out. If not, then I will reveal all in the chapter after next, as next chapter is another make-out session with the Sansman. I figure that needs to take priority, as his jealousy's been triggered and as Reader's been flirting with him all day >:P
> 
> Dry humping will probably happen, too, so here's your **NSFW warning for next chapter**.


	81. The Wall.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super NSFW wall dry humping ahead XD I put the rating on this fic up to explicit but I figured I'd mark it with the asterisk anyway as an indication of good shit god shit right here mmm right here 8D Hope you like it!

It didn’t take long for him to have you pinned against the wall of his bedroom.

His large hands grip at your body hungrily under your clothes, the sharpened points of his phalanges leaving small stinging trails of scratched skin behind in their wake. His teeth and tongue are at your neck, as if caught in agonizing indecision whether to open you up right then and there. There’s this definite sense of wanting to claim you after learning that Mettaton stole a kiss from you some time back.

“ **f- _fuck_ , sweetheart. you’ve _any idea_ how long i’ve been _waitin’_ to touch you like this?** ” he moans against your sensitive neck.

He’s an absolute mountain of a man, lifting you up by your ass to have you elevated against the wall before him, each of your legs spread out and draped over his pelvis, sandwiched between the girdle and spine. It actually surprises you when your knees _almost_ touch behind his back – it’s easy to forget that it’s just empty space between his ribs and pelvis.

And, yep, that’s _definitely_ an erection he’s rubbing against you through his shorts. You bite your lip at what you can feel of the size of it. Is that actually going to _fit?_

“I can hazard a _ahh_ _guess_ ,” you fumble out in reply. He’s a bit _distracting_ right about now.

“ **fuck,** ” he curses heatedly. “ **aah, _shit_ , you’re so fuckin’ _hot_ , you know that?**”

Up close and in such a compromising positon, he clearly smells of mustard, sweat, some musky, minty bodywash he uses, and this weird chalky scent you can’t quite place. What _is_ that? Whatever it is, he just has this overwhelming masculine energy, this hungry need, that’s focused solely and entirely on you.

And honestly? Right now? He’s completely _irresistible_ to you.

You’re not sure if it’s your own dry spell making this sweaty monster so appealing right now, but you’re actually enjoying the compromising position, which is mildly surprising through the haze of lust. You’d always figured that _you_ were the more needy one of your previous partners, the one in control more often than not, but he’s taken the lead and you’re _more_ than on board with his current plan of action. All of your senses are focused on each other – taste, touch, smell, scent, sound – and the rest of the world can just go _fuck off_ for a while as you let him _ravish_ you in a way that your whole body desperately _aches_ for.

“ **holy fuck ‘m gunna make such a _mess_ of you, sweetheart,** ” he promises. “ **i wanna see that hot determined fucking _face_ o’yours fucking _broken_. there’s nobody who’ll make you feel _half_ as good as _‘m_ gunna make you feel, i _promise_ you _that_.”**

Well, if he would just _stop talking_ for a second and _do_ something about it.

“ _Oh_ , willyou _just_ … _Shut UP,_ ” you demand breathlessly.

“ **what’sat, sweetheart?** ” He seems a little stunned by your outburst, pulling away and moving some of the hair sticking to your face away so he can see you more clearly.

“If you’re going to fuck me senseless, then _fuck me_ already,” you whine, already far past frustrated when he’s rubbing you down like this. “ _Fuck_ , Sans, you _talk_ too much.”

His chest rumbles against you in a low, sultry chuckle, as his teeth are at your neck again. He thrusts powerfully up against you, surprising you as you gasp. _Yes_ , _that’s_ it-!

Once he notices you’re gasping and moaning, he finds a rhythm as he works the head of his dick through his thin basketball shorts right against your clitoris. With your knees closer together behind his back, he actually has an almost perfect unfailing angle to rub against it with every thrust.

He’s not too hard on you, though. This is your first time doing something this intimate together, and you can tell by his fast pace and his careful grip on you that he doesn’t want to bruise you with his need for his own fulfillment here. He’s showing amazing restraint in making sure to work you up in _exactly_ the right way first.

That’s not quite enough for you, though. You want to make sure he has his fun too. You move a hand to scrap your nails up what you can reach of the top part of his spine. He staggers on a thrust and practically growls, nipping at your shoulder as he peels your pants and underwear away from your ass, gripping the bare flesh in his massive hard palms instead, his pace quickening as he edges the both of you closer.

His phone buzzes at him from his pocket, interrupting his rhythm as he swears and pulls it free from his shorts. He barely reads the screen before throwing it across the room away from himself.

“ _SANS!_ We _just_ _bought_ that!” you curse him out.

“ **’ey can fuck off. m’ _busy_ ,**” he grunts.

“I fucking _swear_ if you broke it _already_ -“

“ **’s _your_ turn to _shut up_ ,**” he snarls.

His mouth traps yours as he kisses you deeply, sucking at your tongue and scraping his teeth against it, causing you to wince as you taste blood. He lets you go as you gasp, his thrusts resuming in a fierce rhythm against your clit. He’s _so close_.

You crest over the edge you were building just before he does, moaning our your pleasure as his now soggy shorts try to work you through the rest of it, even as his body’s tension bleeds away from him and he loosens his grip, breathing heavily.

You slide down the wall as his hand comes over your pants, trying to find your clit through them with his fingers and help extend your release, but you lazily bat his hand away. Instead, you just lean against him for support as he leans on the wall behind you for the same.

Eventually he finds enough strength to haul you up into his arms and over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Your body still tingling, you don’t put up a fight. Once he’s laid you out on the bed before him, and your orgasm regrettably fades away, you swat at him before reaching under your shirt to unhook your bra and toss it across the room.

“Next time, take your _damn shorts off_ ,” you grumble.

Eye sockets half-lidded, his face is a mix of emotions as he comes down from his own high, but he resolves to just chuckle as he flops on the bed next to you, pulling the thin sheets over both of your still clothed bodies as you settle in for a well-deserved nap.

 

* * *

Gaster sighs as he taps his pen irritably against the side of the drafting table. He hasn’t been able to resume his original train of thought since before the two of you returned home today.

He heard _everything_ , of course. His eldest son _is_ a bit of a _braggart_ in this department, so, of _course_ he would take you up against the wall shared between their respective bedrooms. Whether or not he knew Gaster was home is irrelevant – he’d _soil_ the adjoining wall _regardless_.

All the disorganized noise and animalistic grunting, and obvious climaxes at the resolution of your mating, gives him at least _one_ positive thought from bearing unintentional witness to this afternoon’s events; At this rate it won’t be very long before you are with child. A peek at your soul this evening is all he will need to verify the new hybrid’s primary aspect.

… About _fucking_ time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I was in such a mental funk/messed up head space for so long, but now, _hopefully_ , I'm back. I hope this lived up to the expectations I left you with last chapter, I'm sorry!!!
> 
> This time it's gotta be dry humping because our monster boy is _trying_ to exercise _some_ form of restraint (and he doesn't want to knock you up of course). Which is going to leave Reader a little frustrated as he dodges for the next few chapters. But they'll get there eventually XD Seriously it's like a _major_ plot thing.
> 
> Reader: Stick your dick in me already!
> 
> Sans: **fuck you.**
> 
> Reader: Yes, that's the general idea.
> 
> XD I sincerely hope I can get more fanfic writing done more often than I have been over the last year or so. I hate that this got left in the lurch for so long. And yeah Creepster's gonna creep. Hope that wasn't too bad of a mood killer D:
> 
> I previewed this chapter in Discord! Come join the fun: https://discord.gg/fdWkqdJ It's not very active so it's either dead except for random updates, anecdotes, and screenshots, or there's two people talking _forever_ (one of them is usually me) XD

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Reality is NOT For ME](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9208538) by [MellenCollie_An_ShrinkingCoyote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellenCollie_An_ShrinkingCoyote/pseuds/MellenCollie_An_ShrinkingCoyote)
  * [Not Your Sweetheart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607730) by [ThisUserIsGayerThanYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisUserIsGayerThanYou/pseuds/ThisUserIsGayerThanYou)




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